


cry a storm of tears (if it helps you breathe)

by homebuilding



Series: rescue me from the waves [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bed-Wetting, Childhood Trauma, Gen, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Recovery, Relapsing, Suicidal Thoughts, Teen Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2019-11-15 17:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18077783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homebuilding/pseuds/homebuilding
Summary: Peter has been away from the grasps of HYDRA for 8 years. By now, one would assume he has escaped from their hold on him, right? He has gone through enough healing that his time with them should be a distant memory.However, with his nightmares returning to him at full-force and his body developing in ways he doesn’t want it to, Peter decides that something needs to change. He needs to take back what HYDRA stole from him. He’ll do whatever it takes.He just can’t let his dad know about it.





	1. nothing worse than thinking you're alone

**Author's Note:**

> this is a sequel to part one in the rescue me from the waves series, darkness will be rewritten. It would be very VERY helpful to read that one first, because this takes place about 8 years after the events of dwbr and deals with the same content and trauma that was discussed in that. 
> 
> that being said, if you don't wish to read part one, quick summary would be: HYDRA had Peter as a child, where he was experimented on, sexually abused, and they tried turned him into a small assassin, but the Avengers found him and tried to help him as best as they could, but life isn't all fun and games and it was a big road to recovery and there were many speed bumps. 
> 
> this story deals with content that is very harmful to some readers. If you have any triggers that involve child abuse, sexual abuse, self harm (this story has none, but there are graphics that can be triggering), please be safe and do NOT read if it can harm you! 
> 
> this story is in the point of view of a teenage Peter, so we will see the abuse in the eyes of the victim, rather than the eyes of someone like Tony, as dwbr was, who merely knew what Peter allowed him to know.

_“That’s a good boy, my Spider.”_

_Peter both doesn’t know where he is and is vividly aware of his surroundings all at the same time. He shouldn’t be here. He knows he shouldn’t be here, but right now he feels like there is no where else he belongs._

_“You’re such a beautiful little creature, my boy.”_

_He shudders. He needs to get out, find an escape, but there is never an escape at in this place, there is only one way out, and they’ll be watching. Besides, there isn’t anywhere he would be able to go, he belongs to HYDRA, he is nothing but a weapon to them, a pet meant be trained into obedience until he is_ nothing, _he doesn’t deserve anything._

 _But here, with this man, he feels like he is_ something. _He doesn’t like what this man is doing, it confuses him, makes him feel sick in different ways than the knives never do, he feels it in the pit of his stomach, yet he is here, receiving the love that he’s been craving for years, love he never realize he was craving until it was given to him, in all the wrong ways. It doesn’t matter to the boy, though, because it’s here, that’s all that matters._

 _“Open your mouth, sweetheart, just a little wider.”_  

Peter wakes with a gasp.

Panting heavily, his eyes darting around the room, searching for any signs of a threat, Peter thinks about the breathing exercises he’s been doing for years. Tonight, it feels as if he’s forgotten everything his therapist has ever taught him.

After a while, as Peter finally begins to calm down, he lays in the quiet of his bedroom, returning to his surroundings enough to realize that his bed is wet.

_Shit._

“JARVIS?” Peter whispers.

“Yes, Peter?” The AI responds.

“Is Dad asleep? Or… or is he still in the lab?” The boy asks, praying to any higher being that the man decided to sleep at a normal time tonight. 

“Sir is in the lab, though he has been asleep at his work desk for over two hours and thirty minutes. Would you like me to wake him?”

“No!” Peter yells. The last thing he wants his dad to know is that he’s begun pissing himself in his sleep again. He hasn’t been doing that since he was a kid. He knows that the minute the man finds out, it will be extended therapy sessions, pitying looks shooting his way, and Peter can’t take that.

“No,” he says again. “Let him sleep, yeah? God knows he doesn’t get enough of it.”

 _God knows I’ve been the cause of his lack of sleep enough, the last 8 years,_ is what he does not say. JARVIS doesn’t need to hear Peter’s self pity. 

Peter quickly jumps out of bed, gathering his sheets up before cleaning his mattress as well as he can, desperately trying to get the soiled bed clean again. When he has done all that he can, he sheds his pyjama bottoms and throws them along with the wet sheets in the nearest laundry basket.

After putting on a pair of clean sweat pants, he picks up the basket and sneaks down the hall. Subconsciously, Peter knows that nobody is here. His dad is in the lab and everybody has their own floors. Even so, he feels dirty, as if being caught with piss-stained sheets would be the ultimate worse thing that could ever happen to him.

He tip-toes to the laundry room, using his enhanced hearing to make sure nobody is in there before he pops the door open. After he adds the soiled laundry into the machine, Peter doesn’t feel up to doing much of anything, so he crawls on top of the washing machine, sitting cross-legged and letting the vibrations of the machine calm him.

It’s times such as this, in the dead silence of the night, his only company being the ghosts in his mind, when Peter feels the most lonely.

He isn’t sure when he started getting bad again. He hasn’t had a relapse as bad as this since he was nine. Back then, he didn’t realize the shame in running to his dad about his problems, as he does now.

Maybe it’s the circumstances of the situation, Peter wonders. The last time he relapsed, the main trigger had been his dad finally telling them that they killed Bubba, all those years ago. The knowledge that his worst nightmare had been dead this whole time, never at risk of coming back, should have comforted Peter. Instead, the nine year old boy had been set into a spiral he couldn’t get out of, nightmares returning with a newfound intensity, bed-wetting arriving so severely that he had to resort to pull ups again. At _nine years old._  

The shame then was almost too much to bare. Peter can’t imagine how he would feel if his dad found out it was happening again. At _fourteen._

This time around, it wasn’t his dad giving him the news of death, nor any seemingly unimportant trigger. No, this was all too real and much too embarrassing for the boy to admit he’s freaking out over.

Not even a week ago, Peter woke up from a dream. It wasn’t frightening, not even tremendously pleasant, so dull that the boy doesn’t even remember what had happened. Who it involved, he doesn’t know. But upon wakening, Peter had discovered his pants had been soaked through with a substance that was white and sticky and clearly _not_ urine. 

It scared him. 

Peter knows that this is a natural thing to happen to a teenager, a normal occurrence that everybody goes through. However, whatever it be, he hasn’t been able to shake the feeling of being _dirty_ out of his head.

The pain that Bubba had put him through, the sick pleasure that Peter clearly remembers written all over the man’s face, had Peter thinking he would _never_ submit himself to those things _ever again._ If one party feels the way Peter had, no amount of pleasure is worth putting another person through that. He is better than Bubba was.

He knows this isn’t the right way of thinking. He _knows_ that. How often in the last eight years have the people in his life reminded him of that? Intimate relationships are consensual, both parties have to be willing for it to be okay, and to feel good. He knows this. 

But he never told Bubba no, did he? How would the man have known?

 _You were a kid,_ the rational part of his mind says. _He should have known it was wrong no matter what you said._

It’s hard to make himself believe that, however. When the part of his mind that is dwelling on guilt, pain, and as much as he hates it, _lust,_ is overpowering the sensible side. All he knows is that when he woke up that day, covered in himself, a pit had begun growing in his stomach that has not faded in the slightest.

To make matters worse, memories about Bubba, as always, unlock the doors of Peter’s mind that he wishes he had lost the key to. Memories of his mother, lying motionless in her own blood, Peter attempting to hold her intestines in for _days,_ unable to comprehend that she was _dead,_ he just _sat there,_ holding her as she began to emit a putrid smell, a smell he had never been able to get out of his mind, no matter how many doors he locks it behind, no matter how much distance he gives himself from it, the memory of her eyes will always-

Peter releases a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. He can’t think about those things. If he thinks about them, he won’t be able to stop.

Noticing he has been sitting on the washing machine long enough for it to have finished the load, he quickly moves the laundry over to the dryer and turns it on the highest setting it can go. 

“JARVIS, what time is it? Anybody awake?” He asks. 

“It is five thirty seven, and only Captain Rogers is awake, and appears to be getting ready for his daily run,” JARVIS informs him.

“Right,” Peter says. “Thanks.”

Peter looks at the dryer. With his dad’s tech, it will only take about twenty minutes for the sheets to dry completely. He ponders whether he should go to the kitchen, risk running into Steve, who will ask all kinds of questions, questions Peter doesn’t have an answer to, not when he only got a few hours of sleep the night before.

He has a strange desire to curl into a ball on the ceiling.

Shaking that thought away, he decides to simply wait for the load to be done so he can sneak back and make his bed before anyone can catch what has happened.

“Hey, J?”

“Yes, Peter?” The AI responds.

“You won’t… you won’t tell my dad what happened, right?” He asks hesitantly.

There is a brief pause before JARVIS responds. “There is no current protocol stating I must inform Sir, nor do I believe you were in any harm. Your heart rate nearly did increase to a level in which I would had to inform Mr. Stark, though it did not reach worrying levels.” 

Peter breathes a sigh of relief. “Good. Thanks, JARVIS.” 

He absentmindedly scratches at his wrist. The scar tissue lingering there had been almost achingly itchy as of late. He knows that it is likely more a phantom kind of pain than anything, but that doesn’t stop it from bothering him enough he ends up rubbing the skin raw. 

_“Now, Little Spider, you’ve been an awful disappointment to me, as of late,” the man says._

_The boy is still. He isn’t sure what he’s done wrong, but whenever Sir is angry, he always ends up hurting more than usual. He doesn’t know what to do. He isn’t allowed to speak unless asked a direct question._

_“Do you know why, Spider?”_

_The boy flinches. “N-No, Sir.”_

_Sir makes a small, disappointed noise. “I expected so much more of you. I have every reason to dispose of you.”_  

 _“N-no, Sir, I-I be good! Good boy! I s-s-sorry!” He stammers out, shaking in fear._  

_“Did I say you could speak, subject?”_

_“N-No, Sir, I sorry, s-sorry,” he cries._

_“You remember what happens to spiders when they’re nothing but a bother, correct?”_

_The boy nods._

_“So tell me, why is it that you resist when we try to help you? Do you not want to be good for us?” Sir asks._  

_The boy shakes his head. “N-no, Sir!”_

_“You don’t want to be a good boy?” The man mocks._  

 _Spider whimpers. He doesn’t know what to say, the words get jumbled up in his head, he isn’t allowed to speak, how is he supposed to tell Sir how good he can be when he doesn’t know_ how- 

_“Will you allow us to test further on you? With no more complaints? No more harming the guards here to protect you?”  
_

_The boy nods._

_“Good. Remember, subject number one, you’re completely replaceable. You’re nothing.”_

A loud beep startles Peter out of his thoughts. The dryer. He’s here, in the tower, his dad only rooms away, and he pissed himself, so he’s washing the sheets. He isn’t there, he will never be back there.

His wrists are bleeding. 

As he takes the sheets out of the dryer, he is reminded that he never took a shower after he woke up. Now, with the mixture of blood and the drying urine against his leg, he feels absolutely disgusted with himself.

After putting the sheets back on his bed, ruffling them up to make them look slept in and not freshly washed, Peter goes to take a shower.

Standing under the hot spray, Peter leans his head against the tile and closes his eyes. God, he’s tired. His wrists sting, so he’ll need to put some sort of antiseptic on it. _Going to have to wear a sweater today, until it heals,_ he thinks. _Dad can’t know._

Watching the blood disappear down the drain, Peter thinks about the last week. How fast his emotions have come on. Just last week, him and Clint pulled a prank on his Dad which involved a hundred water balloons filled with paint. Today, Peter is going to have to practice smiling in the mirror so that nobody realizes anything is wrong. 

 _This has to stop,_ he thinks to himself. _I can’t do this anymore._  

He sometimes wishes he didn’t have his powers. He doesn’t remember what it’s like to not have them, of course, but HYDRA wouldn’t have had any use for him if he never had them. Of course, they had given him his powers. 

His father, his biological one, a man Peter doesn’t remember, only knows from the photos his Aunt and Uncle show him, made the serum. If he hadn’t made it, HYDRA wouldn’t have any use for the man nor his family. 

 _That wasn’t his fault,_ the rational part of his brain chimes in once again. _He was trying to help people. He didn’t want you to get hurt._

Sometimes, Peter wishes the serum hadn’t taken to him. That he remained a useless human, and HYDRA had just put him out of his misery before they had a chance to hurt him. 

_But it did take. And you have to live with that._

He can’t live like this. Knowing that the assassin HYDRA had been in the process of making, been poking and prodding and stabbing for years to find every possible advantage they could use, is simply… normal.

 _You’re not normal,_ he thinks. _You can’t just sit here and do nothing when you can use your powers for good._  

HYDRA wanted him to hurt people the way they had hurt Peter. That’s what this had all been about, right? 

What would they think now, knowing Peter is ignoring his potential, ignoring everything they had been training him to become? 

 _You’re nothing,_ a voice in his head reminds him. A voice which, after nearly a decade since hearing it, still has Peter frozen. Sir wanted Peter to be a monster. The only thing that he hated more than Peter misbehaving was when Peter showed compassion.

When they would bring in spiders, show Peter the creature he truly is, the only thing he will ever be, and then crush them in their spots, reminding Peter of his worth. They could crush him and all he would ever be was a disgusting splat on the floor. He would cry, sometimes, for the arachnids. To be so carelessly crushed, under Peter’s watchful eye, helpless to save them.

He was punished severely when he cried over the spiders. 

He remembers when they brought in the woman. A HYDRA traitor, they had claimed. She was pretty, Peter remembers, before they had blew her brains out, forcing him to watch what they do to HYDRA traitors. What _Peter_ would do to HYRDA traitors.

He was punished the most severely when he cried for her.

Sir didn’t like when Peter showed compassion. When he wanted to save the spiders. When he wanted to save the woman. 

HYDRA hated the Avengers. Peter remembers that. The stories the boy would hear from the guards, from the lab techs who were dumb enough to think Peter couldn’t hear them. Or maybe they simply didn’t care that he could.

They would speak of the Avengers, a group of traitors who didn’t understand the true purpose the earth was for. Who tried to stop HYDRA from doing what they were meant to do. Monsters who would stop at nothing to wipe out the organization, killing everything and everybody in its wake.

He remembers when he first saw Tony Stark step into his cell. He remembers coming to the conclusion that nobody would save him, he was nothing to HYDRA, and the Iron Man was here to kill The Spider for them, to make sure nothing of HYDRA remained. 

The man talked to him, in a calm, gentle tone that he has only heard from two others in his life, a comforting tone that had Peter questioning whether HYDRA was wrong about the Avengers.

Sir hated the Avengers, and Peter knows exactly why. HYDRA wants pain, destruction, and complete control over the world. They encourage murder, rape, any crime that can promote their cause. The Avengers stop that very same activity that HYDRA encourages, and they were damn good at their jobs.

 _You’re nothing,_ Sir would say to him.

 _You’re wrong,_ Peter thinks back to his ghost. _You’re wrong, and soon you’ll see just how much._

There were two things Sir hated most in his world. Compassion for things he deemed unworthy of it, and superheroes that threatened him.

If Peter wanted to face his demons, be more than who he is now, overcome the grasp they still have on him, after all these years, he will have to become the exact thing that Sir hated the most. He will help everyone, no matter how small their problem, no matter who they are. He willgo to places that need him, use the powers that were meant for bad in the best of ways.

Peter looks down at the scars on his wrists. He will be better than HYDRA ever was. He will find a way to spin webs, in ways they never would have thought, swing around the city and save people.

HYDRA stole his right to make his own choices. They took that away from him the minute they put the serum into his bloodstream.

He can’t take that back, now. There is no going back. 

But from now on, Peter is going to use what they gave him for what _he_ wants to do. And if what he wants to do is the exact opposite of what HYDRA wanted from him?

Well, that’s just a bonus.


	2. is the dark worse than the following storm?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi im back i'm sorry for the delay but i'm just about to enter finals time and last week and this week are final assignment weeks but yet here i am :) 
> 
> MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER!!!!!!  
> 1\. This chapter includes more graphic scenes about the rape of a child, and deals with both the child’s trauma carrying with them through their teen years.  
> Again, this chapter goes more into detail about what happened to Peter than any other chapter in this story or darkness has been. Tread lightly and if sexual assault and/or a rape victim self blaming is triggering for you, I advise you to turn away or approach very carefully.

“ _Shit,”_ Peter curses.

He quickly scribbles dark lines over the most recent formula written in his notebook, covering it up in his frustration of yet another failure.

Peter purses his lips together. He’s been working on the webbing fluid formula for over a week, and he still isn’t able to figure it out enough so that it can withstand large amounts of weight. He glances at his notes, alongside the chemistry notes he gathered upon several different sources, such as his textbook, his teacher, and Bruce himself.

 _There has to be a way,_ he thinks to himself.

Lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice the new presence in the room until a booming voice is heard from behind him.

“There’s the kid I’ve been looking for!” His dad’s voice pierces through his thoughts.

Peter startles and quickly slams his ‘secret’ notebook shut, grabbing his actual school one, turning to a random page, throwing the failure of a web fluid attempt in the small cubby underneath him.

“Wow there, buddy, you alright?” His dad asks as he approaches the boy.

“Yeah! Yeah, you just scared me, is all,” he smiles at the man, hoping it’s believable.

“Hm,” Tony hums. “You know we have about, a million screens in here? Or just about anywhere you go, in the modern age of technology? You don’t need to always use the notebook.”

“I like the notebook,” Peter says. “It’s easier to get my thoughts together when they’re all in front of me.”

“Hence the millions of screens,” Tony smiles, gently punching Peter’s arm. He glances a the notebook’s contents. “Stoichiometry? I thought you’ve moved past that already.” 

“Um, yeah, I have, but there’s a quiz coming up, they said it could cover anything we’ve learned this term,” Peter lies.

“Ah, the dreaded pop quiz,” Tony laughs. “You think you’ll be ready?”

Peter nods. “I know this stuff like the back of my hand,” he jokes. 

Tony smiles. “I know you do, buddy. My little genius, hm?” He hums, patting Peter’s shoulder before moving to his side of the lab. “You going to be in here long?” 

 _I would have been if you didn’t interrupt me,_ he thinks to himself. Peter scrunches his nose, trying to hide his annoyance. “No, I didn’t get much sleep last night, I, uh, I think I’m going to go to bed a bit early tonight.”

Tony looks up at his son, squinting his eyes as if trying to solve a challenging equation. “You’re okay? Any particular reason you aren’t sleeping? Don’t think I haven’t noticed the signature Tony Stark eye bags.” 

“I’m _fine,_ dad,” Peter snaps, fists clenching together. After taking a deep breath, he calms himself down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you like that. Just a bit of school stress, yeah?” He smiles at his dad.

“Alright,” Tony replies. “If that’s it. You got nothing to stress over, buddy, you’re a straight A student.”

“I know,” Peter says. “I just… I can’t help it, sometimes.” 

“Of course,” he smiles at his son. “Try to get some sleep. I love you, buddy.” 

“I love you, too,” Peter replies, gathering his supplies before carrying them up to his room.

He knows he shouldn’t be mad at his dad. He has no reason to be, Tony has been nothing but great with Peter for as long as Peter can remember.

It’s more himself he’s angry with. Nothing Peter does seems to be right, anymore. He _still_ can’t get the fluid to work, he isn’t able to focus on anything other than it, so his grades at school are starting to slip.

Of course, to make matters worse, he hasn’t been able to get a single night’s sleep without dreaming about… him. It isn’t fair.

As he settles into his bedroom, Peter places his notebooks on his desk, taking a fleeting glance at the one containing his web formula’s. He doesn’t know what he is missing. The structural integrity of the fluid itself works perfectly, it can stick to basically everything Peter has tried. The only problem is the amount of weight it can withstand. It needs to be able to hold _him,_ at the very least. If he wants to be good at his job, it needs to withstand much more than just that. It feels like he has tried almost everything he can think of. What is he missing?

Peter sighs and rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, feeling much like a child. He’s _so_ tired. Very quickly, he sheds his clothing, and with barely enough energy, puts on a pair of red pyjama pants. He looks up at his bed, hidden in the nook it’s been in for nearly eight years. God, it seems so high up, right about now. He contemplates simply curling up in the corner of the room when he lets out a large sigh and begins scaling the wall to hide under the blankets.

Finally curled up in his bed, staring at the wall opposite him, he allows his mind to drift away, the last thought that enters his mind as he drifts to sleep being _Please, don’t go to HYDRA tonight. Stay home._

* * *

He jolts awake. He isn’t in his cell. He isn’t in the medical bay. He isn’t even in Bubba’s room. He’s in his own bedroom, at Stark Tower.

Peter sighs. How much sleep did he get last night? It can’t be that much. Squinting his eyes, looking around his room in the dark, he notices that some things are out of place in his room. Looking at his desk, he sees his laptop, one of his old textbooks, and…

His notebook is gone. He blinks a few times, looking around the desk to see if it had fallen while he was sleeping. It hadn’t. 

“JARVIS?” Peter asks.

There is no response. Heart pounding in his chest, Peter calls again. “JARVIS, don’t be funny, okay?”

“Who’s JARVIS?” 

Peter jumps. His eyes dart to the corner of the room, where the shadow of a man is standing. As the man walks closer to him, Peter sees the face of the man whom has been haunting him for years. 

“Now, baby boy, that isn’t a nice way to treat your best friend, now, is it?”

“I… you’re d-dead,” Peter stutters. He knows that Bubba is dead. But that doesn’t explain how the man is currently standing in his bedroom, getting closer to him with every step he takes. In the man’s hand, he holds Peter’s notebook.

“Looking for this, huh? Quite an interesting read. I knew you were always going to be exactly what HYDRA wanted you to be. My little spider,” Bubba says.

Peter flinches. “I-I’m not… I’m not.”

“Oh, but you are, sweet little boy. It doesn’t matter what your _daddy_ says. You’re always going to belong to me.” 

Peter stays silent. He doesn’t know what’s happening. How did Bubba get here? Where’s his dad? Did HYDRA come back for him? If they did, is that why JARVIS is down? He needs his dad. 

“Come here, Spider.”

That’s an order. Spider has to obey those, no matter what. 

Without even realizing it, Peter’s legs take him off of the bed, jumping down and standing before Bubba.

A small, nearly hidden part of Peter’s mind tells him that he should be taller. He should be at least to Bubba’s shoulder by now, and yet he is looking up to the man as if he were still six years old. 

“Wow, look at you, gorgeous,” Bubba mumbles, taking Peter in. “I knew you would grow up in to such a beautiful boy, but I never expected… this. So grown up.” 

Peter flinches. He stays silent. He doesn’t know what he is feeling. He knows what’s coming, what is going to happen, it happens every single time he is alone with this man. He hates it, he _knows_ he does, and yet… and yet looking up at the man, the proud look on his face, giving him the love he doesn’t get from anybody else at HYDRA…

A small part of him feels safe. 

“That’s it,” Bubba mumbles, placing his hand in Peter’s hair. “My little Spider, always wanting to please me, huh darling?”

Peter doesn’t speak. He never needs to. If Bubba wants him to speak, he’ll ask him to. The man’s hand continues to stroke it’s way through Peter’s hair, humming gently as if soothing a child. Just like always.

His hands trail lower, skimming over Peter’s shoulder, down his bare abdomen, thumbs stroking along his hipbones.

“You’re always so good for me, sweetheart,” Bubba says. “So, so good.” One hand still stroking over Peter’s hipbone, the other comes up to play with Peter’s bottom lip. He lets out a small sigh. “You haven’t changed a bit, darling. You have beautiful lips, sweet boy.” 

“You’re a big boy now, though, aren’t you? You can have more fun with me, now,” Bubba says.

What does that mean? Peter doesn’t understand, he doesn’t like this, he _doesn’t,_ he just wants his dad, but his dad isn’t here right now, was his dad ever here? Was it a sick dream of his, and he never actually left HYDRA? No, that’s ridiculous. Is it? Did he just snap and imagine a world where he was rescued?

“Hm, yeah baby, just like that, sweetheart,” Bubba says, hand trailing from his hip down to cup Peter’s dick.

He moans. He can’t help it.

“Oh, _yes,_ baby, I love that, keep moaning for me,” Bubba whispers, now palming him. 

It feels good. It feels _really_ good. He doesn’t _want_ it to feel good, but it does.

“ _Fuck,_ sweetheart, that’s it, I missed you so much, did you miss me?” Bubba whispers, right against his ear. 

Did he miss him? He… he doesn’t think he missed him. He definitely didn’t miss being with HYDRA, but… why does he feel relieved?

Peter nods.

“Yes, that’s what I thought, sweet boy, you were made for me, nothing else, you belong to me, never forget that. Are you going to come for me?” 

* * *

He wakes up moaning, in the middle of an orgasm, hips stuttering into his mattress. His face is buried into his pillow, and he breaths deeply as he both comes down from his climax and wakes up. 

“J-J-JARVIS?” He whispers, coughing slightly. He thinks he’s going to be sick. 

“Yes, Peter?” JARVIS quickly responds. “I detect that your heart rate is quite accelerated, though that is common with nocturnal emissions, especially in young boys your age”-

He vomits all over his lap.

“Shit, m’sorry, JARVIS,” Peter mumbles through the thick fluid still stuck to his mouth.

He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe, and he can’t even go to the laundry room and clean his sheets, because Bubba could be out there, he could be out there waiting for Peter. He needs to stay up here, in the safety of his nook bed, nobody can get up here but him.

He needs to breathe.

He coughs a few times, splattering the liquid around slightly, desperately trying to calm himself down.

He has no idea how that happened. He’s disgusted with himself. How… how _dare_ he get aroused by that man. He’s been having nightmares similar to that for nearly a decade, but never quite like this. Never with setting being in the safety of his own bedroom, never as a teenager, never…

Bubba never touched him like that. Not really, never for that purpose, and yet Peter’s mind… created it. It wasn’t a bad memory, it was a _fantasy_ Peter’s own twisted mind created, because he is no better than Bubba, he’s just as perverted, he… did he want that?

“Peter?” A gentle voice interrupts his thoughts.

He gasps out a breath, still trying desperately to regain control. “ _Dad,”_ Peter whispers. 

“Peter, what happened? JARVIS told me that you threw up?” 

“M’fine, dad, fine, I swear, I must have just eaten something bad earlier, it’s okay, you can go back to bed.” Peter stutters out through his raspy breaths. 

“Pete, you sound like you’re struggling to breath. Can you come down so I can look at you?” Tony asks.

 _Come here, Spider._  

 _“_ N-No… No, dad, I’m fine, I can clean it up myself, I swear,” Peter says.

“I’m not leaving until I can see with my own eyes that that’s true,” Tony says determinedly. 

Peter slowly peeks his head out of the nook in his wall, looking down at his dad. 

“Oh, Pete,” Tony sighs.

Tears begin to gather in Peter’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to,” he whispers. 

“I know,” Tony says gently. “Of course you didn’t. I’m not mad, buddy.” 

Peter looks down at himself. His vomit covers the stain that must have been soaking through his pants from his dream.

“If I go grab a basket, can you throw your sheets down into it? I can get these washed while you wash up,” Tony offers.

Peter nods. 

As Tony goes to grab the basket, Peter sheds the sheets from his bed. As much as he hates it, and has argued with his dad about not needing it, his mattress has always had a bedwetting protector covering it in case Peter has an accident. The minute Peter learned that most children his age no longer need anything like that, it had brought Peter so much shame, knowing that it needs to be there for him. No matter how long his time without an accident goes, the mattress protector stays.

Today, he thinks of it as a blessing, merely shedding that off the bed with the rest of his sheets. 

After he adds everything to the basket Tony brings along, he finds himself standing in the shower. 

Bringing the water as cold as his body will allow it, he closes his eyes, absentmindedly scratching at his wrists.

Even after he manages to get the smell of vomit off of him, Peter feels so dirty. He cannot wrap his mind around his dream. Thinking about it, he wants to simply curl up in a ball and die. He hates it.

Yet, in the dream, he liked it. He… he _moaned_ for it. Does he subconsciously want that? Does he… does he truly miss Bubba? He doesn’t think he does, but the mind works in ways we don’t understand, he knows this. We think so many things that we aren’t even aware of, the subconscious being much larger than the conscious. 

Maybe, somewhere, deep inside of him, he misses being with HYDRA. Maybe he is truly a monster, just as they had taught him. Maybe he’s simply been pretending, all these years. How can you truly be a human when you have a spider’s DNA?

“Peter,” JARVIS warns him. “I am very sorry to bother you, but I must warn you that according to Sir’s protocols, if you remain in the shower much longer, I must raise the temperature of the water, as your internal temperature is being threatened by the cold.” 

Peter sighs. “It’s fine, JARVIS, I’m getting out now.” 

After he redresses in a hoodie and some of his warmest sweatpants, the thought of going back to bed makes him want to be sick all over again. 

As he approaches the living area, he sees the distinct glow of his dad’s tablet at the couch. He walks over, hovering by the door, foot trailing in little circles as if he were a kid again. 

“Hey,” he says.

Tony looks up at him with a tired grin. “Feeling alright?” 

Peter nods. “Good as new,” he whispers. 

Tony pats the seat next to him. “Wanna join?”

Peter quickly makes his way to the couch, sitting beside his dad and wrapping his arms around the man, burying his head in his shoulder. 

“Wow, hey there,” Tony says gently, placing his tablet on the table beside them, before returning the embrace.

“M’sorry I made you clean up my vomit,” Peter mumbles into his skin, voice barely audible.

“Hey, what are dads for?” Tony says. “I missed the infancy vomiting stage, I have some time to make up.” 

Peter doesn’t respond to that, choosing to simply embrace his dad tighter. 

After quite some time of quiet hugging, Peter turns his head away slightly, staring at the dark shadow of their TV, giving himself something to focus is gaze on as he asks, “Do you ever wish you never adopted me?”

He feels more than hears his dad inhale sharply. “Never,” Tony says. 

“Ever?” 

“Never.” His arms tighten around Peter’s midsection, tight enough that it would have probably hurt a normal human being. Tony knows that on days like this, Peter likes this kind of physical comfort.

“Peter,” Tony says, placing his chin on top of Peter’s head. “My life changed for the better when you came into it. I would be much worse of a person without you.”

“How do you know that, though?” Peter asks.

“Baby,” Tony says. “You went through so much, and yet you’ve remained the sweetest, most kind human being I’ve ever met. You’ve taught me how to be a better person. Nothing could _ever_ make me wish you were never in my life.”

Tears gather in Peter’s eyes. “I think something is wrong with me.”

“Why, buddy? What happened?” Tony says, drawing back enough that he can look into Peter’s face.

“I don’t know… I’ve just been thinking, recently,” Peter says. “What if HYDRA did something to me, and I was too young to realize? What if I’m a bad guy, like… on the inside.”

“Petey, I’ve seen you cry over puppies, before,” Tony reminds him. “You’re the best guy someone could ask for.”

Before Peter can reply, Tony’s hand trails to Peter’s hair, where he begins to stroke the curls there, something he has done since he has met the boy. 

Peter flinches.

To his dad’s credit, the stops immediately and does not show much of a negative reaction. Despite this, Peter knows that he just hurt the man. 

“M’sorry,” Peter says, hugging his dad again. “M’sorry, it wasn’t you, dad, it was…” 

“Sh,” Tony hushes him. “It’s okay. Never apologize for me doing something you don’t like, okay?”

“I _do_ like it, though! You know I do! It…,” he trails off.

“Baby,” Tony says. “It is _okay._ I’m not mad at you. I understand. If you want to talk about what you’re feeling, I’m here, okay?”

Peter once again buries his head in Tony’s shoulder. “I had a nightmare.”

“I figured that much, buddy,” Tony says. “You don’t get sick. Do you want to talk about it?” 

Peter shakes his head.

“What would you like to do, then?” Tony asks again. 

Peter scoffs. Isn’t that just the question he’s been asking himself everyday for the past two weeks.

That can wait though. His web fluid can wait. His internal struggle with his own morality… that can wait, too. Right now, all he wants to do is be held by his dad.

“Can we just… stay here, for a little bit?” He requests.

“That’s something I can do,” Tony mumbles, lips pressing against his son’s head.

For now, even just for tonight… maybe this can be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> speaking from both a personal note (not me but a close friend of mine) and a bunch of research i have done, many rape victims do indeed suffer from arousing dreams such as the one peter had, mainly in the form of a nightmare, though the human body of course determines it's aroused instead, so they wake up with that feeling, and many encounters i've read involve feelings of regret, disgust, and guilt. Peter, and all the survivors whom this happens to, of course, must know they are not alone, and these dreams do not determine how you feel about the event. 
> 
> again, i'm so sorry it took so long to post this. 
> 
> also, i have 3 assignments due on friday, and then i dive head first into exam season, and my last one is on the morning of april 25th ,which also happens to be the day of ENDGAME so expect a chapter a few days after that. 
> 
> thanks so much for reading! as always, leave any suggestions/comments in the box below! Much love! Stay safe!


	3. you're nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi im back im done my second year of uni and life sucks. 
> 
> endgame ruined me but that wont stop me from pretending it never happened!!

It’s never going to work. It just… isn’t possible.

Peter has been working on his web fluid for almost two weeks now, and he is coming to the conclusion that simply nothing can be done to make it work.

 _Maybe if you asked your dad,_ a part of his mind suggests.

But he can’t ask his dad. Not about this. The minute he tells Tony anything about this, he knows the man will just shut him down, telling him the consequences it will cause, the risks he is taking, and Peter just doesn’t want to deal with any of that.

He groans and drops his head on the desk as the latest failure of webbing breaks apart from itself. The formula he has created is almost right, it spins and sticks for about half of a second, before it decays due to the amount of water that it contains. After taking the fluid and dumping it into Bruce’s toxic waste bin, Peter sits at his lab desk.

Lost in his mind, Peter grabs a handful of his own hair, yanking it as if it would be enough to clear his thoughts. 

_You’re nothing._

Why can’t he just figure it out? It shouldn’t be this hard, his dad would have been able to manufacture something that not only works but was _perfect_ by the time he was ten, let alone fourteen. Peter doesn’t understand why he isn’t able to do just the same.

_Because he isn’t your real father. You aren’t a part of him. You’ll never be as great as him._

Sighing, Peter grips his curls just a slight bit tighter. This isn’t anything knew. A small part of him has always known he will never be Tony’s true son. Peter knows where he comes from.

Sometimes Peter wonders if his biological father even loved him. If he wasn’t enough for Richard, and the man had created the serum specifically for Peter, to make him better, just as HYDRA had. Once, after expressing these thoughts to Tony, his dad had a long talk with the boy, explaining that though Peter doesn’t remember Richard, the man loved him more than anything in the world.

He had been trying to make a better life for people with genetic disorders, Tony had told him. He mixed the DNA of a spider with his own, because he needed to acquire human DNA somewhere, and he wasn’t a bad person, so he only had one option.

He wasn’t a bad person. HYDRA wouldn’t have used their own genetics. They wouldn’t have risked their own lives when they had billions of other subjects they could easily use. Richard didn’t see that as an option. He wasn’t a bad person. 

He wasn’t a bad person. He didn’t want this to happen to Peter. He loved Peter.

It’s hard to believe that when the only memory he has of the man comes from photographs and stories.

There is a video, too. A home-made video, one that normal families contain hundreds of, with Peter and his father in it. Ben and May had found it in a storage unit the Parker’s had, a few years after the plane crash. They never watched it until years later, after Peter had been found.

It’s a short video.

Peter, a small yet pudgy two year old, on shaky legs, running to Richard, arms extended, wide smile plastered on his face. “Daddy!” Peter screams, jumping up and down, reaching the man and tugging onto his pant leg.

The ghost of his father leans down and pats the boy’s head. “Hey, buddy-boy.” 

“Up, Daddy!”

“I can’t right now, Petey, Daddy has to do some work,” the man replies, eyes darting back to the papers on his desk.

A female voice came from behind the camera, most likely Peter’s mother, sighing. “Come on Rich, play with your baby. I’m running out of film, here.” 

He looks up into the camera, eyes wide. “If I stop now and forget this formula, I have to start over.”

“Then write it down!”

Peter, oblivious to his father’s discomfort, continues bouncing up and down, voice getting more hysterical the longer the man refuses to pick him up.

After quickly jotting down some notes onto the paper, Richard finally picks Peter up, placing the boy onto his lap. “What’s my little rascal up to today, huh? Did you have fun at the park with Mama?” 

Peter nods excitedly. “Miss you.”

“You missed me?” Richard says, ruffling Peter’s hair. “I missed you too, buddy. It’s always too quiet when you aren’t home with me.” 

The two embrace for another minute, Richard looking over his papers as he strokes his hands through Peter’s hair, the toddler not noticing his father’s distraction. After another minute goes by, the man smiles, leans back, and suggests “How about some ice cream for my favourite little boy?”

The video cuts off after an ear piecing shriek is let out from the boy’s lips, his hands clapping together as his dad lifts him in the air.

They showed Peter the video for the first time after he asked about his father, for the first time. The boy has seen the video hundreds of times since, as if trying to figure out exactly who his father was in this four minute clip. His opinion of the man changes with every viewing of the tape, very heavily depending on the mindset Peter is in while he watches it.

 _He didn’t love you,_ Peter’s brain thinks now. _He wanted to do his work and you got in the way. You always get in the way. You got in your real father’s way, you made him hate you, and you’re too dumb for your dad now. He’s going to leave you, too._

“Am I intruding?” 

Peter startles so hard he nearly falls out of his chair. His grip on his hair had been so rough that as he startled, his hand was yanked away, taking a wad of his own brown locks with it.

Quickly brushing the hair off of his hand, trying to hide his wince once he realizes just how much his head hurts from his abuse of it, Peter turns his head to the door of the lab.

Audibly gasping, Peter leaps out of his chair and runs to the door. Without saying anything, he jumps into the man’s arms as if he were still a child, arms around his neck, legs around his waist.

Thor laughs booms across the room, lifting Peter’s mood significantly without even saying anything.

“I missed you,” Peter mumbles into his best friends neck.

It doesn’t matter how old he gets, how he now realizes it’s considered weird to have a best friend who is over a thousand years old, and in the appearance of a fully grown man, when Peter himself is only a teenager. He doesn’t care about that.

“It has been too long, hasn’t it,” Thor says, holding the boy tightly. 

“You never visit me anymore,” Peter accuses.

“I would be here indefinitely if it were possible, Peter,” Thor says. “Nothing brings me joy more than seeing you does.”

Peter unwinds his limbs from the man and drops down to the floor. “It doesn’t matter. I know you’re busy.”

“I have been attempting to visit for quite some time, now,” Thor admits. “Coming to visit you is what have gotten me through the last few months”

“What have you been doing?” Peter asks. “Besides, like, ruling an entire realm.”

“Things that must be done, battles that must be won,” Thor smiles down at him. “What of you?” 

“Oh, you know, just the same boring stuff as always,” Peter says.

Thor reaches out to gently touch the small patch of bloodied, missing hair on Peter’s head. “Your mind is troubling you yet again?”

Peter shies away from the touch. “It’s nothing,” he says, covering the patch from Thor’s gaze with his own hand. “It’ll grow back in a few days, anyway…”

“I do wish you would talk to Stark about this, Peter,” Thor says.

“It’s _fine,_ Thor,” Peter says determinedly.

Thor’s eyebrows draw together, looking as if he were solving a difficult puzzle. He stares at the younger boy, searching for something, while Peter looks right back, determined to not break this staring contest they have going on first.

After what could have been seconds or minutes, Thor sighs and looks down to Peter’s desk. “What are you working on?”

Peter hesitates. He knows he can trust Thor with a secret, but he isn’t sure if the man would be willing to keep something _this_ important. Will he go running to Peter’s dad the minute the boy tells him his plan?

“I’m just… I’m trying to figure out more about my powers, you know? See how far they can go, and if I can add things to them,” Peter says slowly, trying to seem as if it were not a big deal.

“Ah,” Thor says. “Curious minds are powerful minds.” He looks at Peter’s notebook in confusion, most likely not understanding the formula’s at all. “Have you asked Bruce about this? If I’m not mistaken, he is the best person to inquire about genetic things, yes?” 

“Well, probably,” Peter replies. “But then he would tell my dad, and my dad will be weird around me for days before finally asking me what I’m doing, and he’ll make me stop, and it would be best if he just didn’t know anything.” 

“You seem stressed,” Thor notices. “It never hurts to have help.”

“I can do it myself, though,” Peter says. 

“Aye,” Thor says. “I never doubt your intelligence, nor your strength.” He pauses for a moment, making sure that the two of them are remaining deep eye contact. “Though you never _have_ to do it alone. You have many people on your team, young Peter.”

Peter smiles weakly. He was so tired. “Thanks, Thor.” For a moment, he considers telling Thor everything. Consequences be damned, if he tells Thor about his dreams, his intrusive thoughts, his plans with his powers, maybe the man would be able to help.

He sighs and looks down. He doesn’t need help. He can do this alone, just like his dad did after Afghanistan. “It’s okay, though. I got this.”

Thor gives the boy a small smile. “If you’re sure. Never hesitate to come to me if you need anything, Peter. If I am not here, I’m sure your dad would never be upset to help you.” 

Peter doesn’t respond. He isn’t so sure. It’s rare that Tony gets mad at the boy, that’s for sure. When he does, he doesn’t often raise his voice, or even scorn Peter in harsh ways. He knows this is because Tony is trying to avoid bringing up hidden memories of HYDRA, words they used on him when he was bad.

The last time his dad got mad at him, all the boy got as a gentle look and a “I’m disappointed in you.” Peter thinks he would prefer to be yelled at, because then he wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt that came from making Tony disappointed.

As much as he hates to admit it, Peter has a deep, almost second nature of desire to please people. He doesn’t know if that came from HYDRA, his his handler, or Bubba, or if it had been hardwired into him at birth.

Either way, whenever Tony displays that kind of disappointment, the only thing Peter can think of is doing anything and everything he has to in order to make up for his mistake. At that point in time, it doesn’t matter what the man wanted him to do, he would do it for him.

That is why he can’t tell his dad these things. Tony believes, or at least enjoys to believe, that Peter is completely healed from his trauma. If Peter tells him that he thinks he may be relapsing, Tony’s entire fantasy will go away, and Peter won’t let that happen.

His dad has already given up everything for him, the least he can do is play the role of the happy Stark son that Tony wants him to be.

“Peter?”

Peter comes back from his thoughts to a hand shaking in front of his face.

“Sorry,” he says, blinking quickly to rid the thoughts away. “What did you say?” 

“I said, I should go and bid my greetings to everybody else in the tower,” Thor says. “Unless you wish for me to stay?”

 _Yes. Stay. Don’t leave me alone._ “Okay.”

“You’re okay?”

“Always,” Peter smiles. “I should get back to this, anyway.” He turns to his notebook, not watching the man leave, before a simple thought jolts him. “Thor?”

The man turns back and looks at Peter questioningly.

“You haven’t said hi to anyone in the tower yet? They should have been like… two rooms away from where you arrive on the landing pad. Did you come all the way down here first?” 

“I’ll always come to you first,” Thor says as if it were obvious.

Peter feels tears gather in his eyes, and blinks them back quickly. “I love you, Thor.”

“And I you, my little warrior,” Thor replies, keeping a lingering glance on the boy before turning and exiting, JARVIS shutting the door of the lab behind him.

Thor’s visit, having calmed Peter down extremely, sets the boy into working on his formula once again. He’s almost there.

Mumbling to himself, Peter makes a list of everything he can think of in order to absorb the amount of water that currently resides in his formula.

“It’s not the actual _water_ that’s the problem,” he mumbles, coming to a realization. “It’s the _gas.”_

He’s been trying to work with the water molecules while they were in a state of a liquid, attempting to rid the fluid of the H2O that way, when all this time he had to be focusing on the water vapour itself. The _gas_ state of the H2O.

“This changes everything,” he whispers under his breath, quickly moving his pencil in a tornado movement along the sides of his notebook as he thinks. “The molecules would be less interactive, that’s why it didn’t work last time. I need something to soak up the vapour, not get rid of the liquid entirely.”

“Peter,” JARVIS says. “Might I guide you towards a common household item that is used to absorb water vapour?” 

“Oh, _shit,”_ Peter realizes.

What happens next, happens fast. Peter is up on his feet, sprinting to his room, grabbing everything he needs, and the next thing he knows, he has a perfect web leading from his desk to the chair in in front of him. After yanking on the web, the chair comes flying into his hand.

“Holy _shit._ ” Peter says.

He pokes at the web, watching as it falls back into the position it was originally in. He isn’t sure how long he looks at it, nor when the tears started falling from his eyes, but it isn’t until a sob is released from his throat does he realize how _happy_ he was. 

He did it.

Something HYDRA was never able to do, he was able to do himself. He was able to create the web formula. He isn’t the Spider, he isn’t theirs. He is better than he would have ever been while with HYDRA, better and stronger.

He’s self created. HYDRA didn’t make him. His powers may have came from them, but he created what really matters. He created the webs, and he will use what _he_ has made for himself. Just like Iron Man.

He isn’t The Spider. He’s…

“Spider-Man,” he whispers through his sobs. The tears are freely flowing from his eyes now, and he is letting them.

The sound of the lab doors opening have him once again attempting to hide his work. 

“I would ask you if you knew Thor had come back, but that would be a dumbass question because we all know he comes to you first the minute he shows up, no matter what, so… Pete?”

It’s his dad.

He turns his head. “Hey, dad.”

“What happened?” Tony asks, brows furrowing in concern for his son.

“Nothing,” Peter smiles. “I’m just really happy Thor’s back, you know? I missed him.” 

“You’re crying,” Tony observes. “You’ve never done that over him before.”

‘It’s been a long week,” Peter says. “It came as a really nice surprise.”

“Sure, for you maybe. Been here for less than two hours and he’s already eaten half the fridge,” Tony jokes with him.

Peter laughs. “You have your own fridge on our floor,” he accuses.

“That’s no better! What, with you eating all my blueberries?”

Peter stays quiet, basking in the moment with his dad. He has been so overwhelmed in the last few weeks, he hasn’t had many of these. With his win on the formula, he feels like he finally deserves it.

“You sure you’re alright?” Tony asks him.

“Yeah, I’m great,” Peter says. “Seriously.”

And he is, for now. 

That’s enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick reminder that peter’s thoughts about tony are 100% not true but remember that these are the thoughts of a teenager who had been abused through most of his early childhood, so his thoughts on the people he loves can be harmful (to himself). 
> 
> tony loves peter very much, but despite how much he loves the man, peter will always have a part of him that fears abandonment, getting rejected by the people he loves, and (like many teenagers), simply think that the adults in their life won’t understand what they are going through, so would prefer to keep things to himself.
> 
> PSA: this is a very bad coping mechanism and I encourage anyone going through a hard time to talk to those that they love, friends, family, a nice neighbour, a pet even. 
> 
> also if spiderman homecoming can completely avoid amino acids and use silica gel to purify peter’s web formula, so can i. 
> 
> leave a comment if you have any idea how you want this to go because im so lost about what the hell im doing with it


	4. the amazingly sad spiderman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey i’m back and only a month late! i’ve basically lost the will to write this for a good chunk of time but i told myself i cannot abandon it so here we are. 
> 
> this chapter has references to torture, murder of minor characters, and the sexual assault of a very young minor, and a brief appearance of suicidal thoughts, but nothing that is acted upon, though i added that to the main tags so people can be warned no matter what.

“I don’t understand you, man,” Ned shakes his head. 

Peter has been leading Ned in the direction of an abandoned warehouse just outside of Queens for the good portion of an hour, the two boys just arriving at the building now.

Despite his son’s protests, Tony is adamant about making sure Peter has somebody to pick him up from school, not trusting the boy to walk back to the tower after school. Because of this, Peter had to make some dumb excuse about going to Ned’s to study after Happy had picked him up that afternoon, and the boys walked to the building that has been in Peter’s mind all day. 

The perfect spot to test his webs.

During the walk over, Peter had been filling Ned in about why he has been so distant the past few weeks. He tells his friend about everything.

 _Well, almost everything,_ Peter thinks. He doesn’t think he will ever be able to tell anyone, let alone his best friend, about his reoccurring nightmares that are slowly morphing into wet dreams.

Sure, he still has other nightmares. Ones with needles, knives, sharp tones and barked orders he cannot understand. Blurry, faint memories of faces he can’t remember, praising him, scorning him, injecting him with a serum that makes him _burn, burn, burn so awfully he must be on fire, is he on fire?_

Peter blinks. Shakes his head a few times as if to physically force the thoughts away. 

Sure, he has those dreams as well. But the other ones, the _worse_ ones, the ones he cannot even understand _why_ they are worse, come to him much quicker, much more often than the others. These dreams are haunting almost every waking hour, these days. He isn’t sure how to stop it, if he can’t do this.

Peter looks at Ned and crunches his nose. “What’s so hard to understand about it?”

“Peter,” Ned says. “You don’t have to prove anything to your dad.” 

Peter recoils back. “This isn’t about my dad, Ned!” 

“Okay,” Ned says. “But you’re still a kid, dude,” Ned says.

“I don’t feel like a kid, Ned,” Peter tries to explain. “I haven’t really ever felt like one, not really.” At Ned’s confused look, Peter sighs and tries to elaborate.

“It’s just, like, I never got a choice in any of this, right? HYDRA took me when I was two, dude.”

Ned nods. “I know, Pete, but Mr. Stark will freak out if he finds out what you’re doing.”

“Are you planning on telling him?” Peter asks. “I’ve already talked to him about giving me more space. I’m almost fifteen, Ned. He still treats me like I’m six.”

“So, you asked him to give you more space so you can, what? Sneak out and fight crime?”

Peter sighs. “It’s complicated, Ned.”

“So explain it to me,” Ned says.

“Look, from what I can remember, HYDRA wanted me to be this super villain assassin, right? Like the Winter Solider 2.0, or whatever.”

Ned nods, and despite the horrific reality of the situation, and the endless amounts of times he’s discussed this with his best friend, looks fascinated.

“I didn’t have a choice in that, Ned,” Peter says. “It’s been nearly a decade, and I’m still littered in scars from what they did to me. I want… I want to be able to make my own decisions about what happens with my powers, you know?”

Ned nods. “Riiight,” he drawls out. “But can’t you just be a normal, mutant kid? Do you need to use your powers?”

“You don’t get it, man! I could have been the bad guy, Ned. The kind of people my dad and the rest of the Avengers fights every day. They could have been out there, fighting me.”

“But… they aren’t. They got you out of there, Peter,” Ned says gently. He knows that it isn’t uncommon for Peter to forget his surroundings.

“I know,” Peter sighs. “It’s the thought of the matter, you know? I would have been a murderer by now, if my dad never found me.”

Ned hesitates. _Probably imagining me in all black, terrorizing a bunch of innocent people,_ Peter thinks to himself. When Ned doesn’t respond, still looking in deep thought, Peter continues his argument.

“I want to write my own path,” Peter explains. “Not what they wanted. Not what my dad wants.”

“All your dad wants is for you to be kept safe, man,” Ned shakes his head. “The background checks he does on literally every single person you come in contact with is proof enough.”

“That’s exactly it, though! If it were up to him, I would be locked in the tower, in some padded room where I can’t even get a paper cut!” Peter yells. “I want to help people, Ned. People who can’t help themselves. Like I couldn’t, back then.”

 _Sitting there for minutes, hours, days? He doesn’t know. All he knows in that moment is Mama, who isn’t waking up, she’s bleeding a lot, but that’s okay, he bleeds a lot sometimes too, but he always gets better, so she will too, he just has to press the rag down and she’ll be fine, Mama is always fine, she_ has _to be fine._

“Pete?” 

Peter blinks back into awareness. This is getting out of control.

“Look,” Peter continues. “If HYDRA made me, then what’s stopping them from making another? I was just a lab rat to them, Ned.

“There’s billions of people to choose from, who’s saying they didn’t pluck some helpless kid up the minute I left? Some poor kid who’s been stuck there for almost nine years, getting the training I would have. I’m just success number one, to them.”

“None of that is your fault, though,” Ned says.

Peter sighs. “If they made another one, who’s going to be there to fight him? Or her?”

“Um, The Avengers?” Ned suggests. 

“Who better to fight a new me than an old me, right?” Peter says, watching as Ned’s face grows confused. “Maybe that didn’t make sense to you, but it does to me, man!” 

Noticing that Ned is not going to comment, Peter lets out a frustrated sigh. “When bad things happen, HYDRA gets stronger, Ned. They thrive off of that stuff. What better way to fight against HYDRA than fighting off the things that make them strong?”

“So, you’re going to fight bad guys because it’s the exact opposite of what HYDRA… made you for?” Ned asks.

“Yes! I’m taking back my powers, Ned! They belong to me, and I can do what I want with them!” Peter yells. 

Ned looks down to at the notebook that has all the different variations of Peter’s webbing, which the latter boy had been carrying as they had walked.

Ned sighs. “Don’t you think Mr. Stark will catch word of a skinny kid swinging from a web and think, ‘Hm, that sounds like the same exact things my son can do’?”

“Well, he won’t have to worry, because you’re going to cover for me,” Peter says. 

“What?”

“I’ll say I’m going to be with you, and if he calls you or whatever, tell him that I’m with you or something. You can be like my sidekick!” Peter exclaims, bouncing on his heels, giving Ned the biggest puppy eyes he can.

Ned lets out a throaty noise. “Awe, c’mon man! Why did you have to say it like that? Now I’m obligated to help! I can be like your guy in the chair!” 

“My what?” Peter asks, smiling slightly.

“You know! Like the guy who sits by the computers and feeds you information! Guy in the chair!” Ned explains.

Peter laughs. “You’ll be the best guy in the chair anyone could ask for!”

The two laugh together for a moment before Peter takes his web shooters out of his bag.

“Wow,” Ned says, eyes growing wide. “You shoot the webs out of those?” 

Peter nods. “I tested it, like, six times. It can withstand my weight. I just need to make sure I can swing and stuff.”

“Did you hang from something? Shouldn’t you try… dangling from the ceiling first? Maybe go up and test that before you do anything drastic?”

“No, no, it’s fine!” Peter assures his friend, climbing the wall to get to the roof of the building.

Once he is at the top, he secures the web shooters on his wrist and looks down at Ned, giving the boy a thumbs up. 

“Peter!” Ned yells up at him, cupping his hands around his mouth. “You’re too high up! If it doesn’t work you could break your neck!” 

_If this doesn’t work, I’d rather die._

He hesitates. Does he really mean that? 

Before he can think into it any further, Peter leaps of the roof.

It’s as if time stops.

Every weight that has been pressing him down for the last decade just… disappears. He feels _free._

For a fraction of a second, Peter considers not shooting the web. To continue falling, to end his life feeling this free. But he can’t. He knows he can’t. For all the people who can’t help themselves, for the people like his mother, who died because of bad people, he doesn’t. He presses the button and the web shoots out, clinging the edge of the next building over, and he swings onto the ground right beside Ned. 

It isn’t the most graceful landing. He stumbles slightly, enough that Ned reaches out to steady him to prevent his friend from face planting into the gravel. But he stays on his feet.

Peter looks up at Ned. The two just stare at each other for a few seconds before Peter breaks into a huge smile.

“Holy shit!”

“It worked!”

Breathing heavily, more from the adrenaline than the actual fall, Peter feels _amazing._

For the first time in possibly forever, Peter feels _alive._ He knows his purpose in the world. This is how he is going to free himself from HYDRA for good.

Peter continues practicing, Ned below him the entire time shouting words of encouragement, before his phone buzzes with a call from his dad.

He considers ignoring it, before quickly realizing that Tony would track his phone the minute he heard Peter’s voicemail rather than his actual voice.

“Yeah, dad?” He says, placing the phone to his ear. 

“Hello to you too, dear son of mine,” Tony scoffs into the receiver. 

“Sorry,” Peter says. “Just a bit distracted right now.”

“Discussing the next Star Wars theory, or what?”

“No, we’re just studying,” he says. “Did you need something, or?”

“Just checking in,” his dad says. “Are you planning on coming home soon, or should I send Happy over later than planned?”

Peter blinks. He looks down at the time on his phone, realizing he has twenty minutes before the time he had told Happy his supposed study session was supposed to end.

“No, no, later! We just got into the next unit, and if we lose our focus now, we’ll never want to do it!”

Tony laughs. “You? Not wanting to do your homework? I’ll believe it when I see it.” He pauses for a brief moment before saying, “One more hour, bud.” 

“Thanks, dad,” Peter says.“I love you.”

“I love you too, Pete. So much. I’ll see you in a bit,” Tony replies before hanging up the phone.

All of a sudden, Peter is hit with a pang of grief about lying to the man. Everything the man has done for him, what he does for _everyone,_ and Peter has the audacity to just lie straight to his face. He has to convince himself that he is doing this for the right reasons, and he knows Tony will never understand those reasons. He _has_ to do this, for the good of everybody.

On the way back to Ned’s apartment, the two discuss how Peter will be able to pull this off. How he will disguise himself, how often he will go out, the excuses he can make to sneak away from the tower.

“Are you… are you going to call yourself ‘The Spider?” Ned asks.

Peter flinches. “No.”

“Oh… sorry,” Ned says. “It’s just, you said you want to be the opposite of what they wanted you to be, right, so I figured maybe you’d keep the name, as an extra punch to their faces.”

Peter nods. “I get it, Ned, I just… I can’t. It reminds me too much of things I really don’t like thinking about.” 

“That makes sense,” Ned agrees. “But what are you going to call yourself? Is the spider name completely off the table? Because if so, there are still so many options! ’The Web Slinging Slasher’? Get it? Like the Spongebob thing, only with webs instead of hash. Or! Or… ‘The Amazing Web Slinger’!”

“Spider-Man,” Peter says when Ned is done his rant.

“Spider-Man,” Ned nods. “Like… Iron Man?” 

“It’s stupid,” Peter shakes his head. “I just want to be like him, you know? He’s done so much for me, and, and…” 

“No, man,” Ned cuts him off. “I love it. It has a really cool ring to it.”

“You think so?” Peter smiles at his best friend.

“Hell yeah, man. But how are you going to hide?”

“What do you mean?” Peter asks.

“You can’t just swing around the city like that. You’ll be spotted, and your dad will see, and he’ll know,” Ned explains. “I mean, it’s one thing for him to see someone with the same abilities as the ones you have, but it’s another to see your face.” 

“Oh,” Peter says. “I mean, I could wear a mask? Or make a suit, or something.”

“Like an Iron-Man suit?!” Ned exclaims. 

“No, man. I can’t do that without my dad knowing,” Peter says. “I’ll just like… sew something together. Your mom has that sewing kit, right?” 

Ned nods. “How are we going to get around that though? I don’t sew.”

“We could say it’s a school project?” Peter suggests. “Make our own decathlon stuff.”

Ned agrees with Peter’s suggestion, and the two continue talking about their plans. Ned suggests that Peter get a burner phone, with only Ned’s number in it, keep Peter’s cell at his apartment when he goes on patrols, so if Tony tracks his phone, it will be at Ned’s apartment.

When they arrive back at Ned’s apartment, they wait in the front of the building for Happy to arrive in silence.

As the car pulls up on the curb, Ned turns to Peter.

“Are you sure about this, Peter?” he asks.

“Ned…”

“I know, you want to protect people from things you couldn’t protect yourself from,” Ned says. “But, can’t you wait a bit? Get some more experience, train some more? I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I’ll be fine, Ned. I’ve been hurt before,” Peter says.

“I just don’t want you rushing into something you aren’t ready for.”

“What happened to the guy in the chair?” Peter asks.

“Dude, I think it’s so cool this is happening. _So_ cool. I just…,” he trails off, looking for the right words. “You look like you haven’t slept in _weeks,_ Peter.” 

Peter blinks. He didn’t realize it was that noticeable. If Ned notices, who else has? Has his dad?

“Well yeah, I was just worried about the web fluid,” Peter lies. “That’s all sorted out now, and I’m fine, I promise.”

Ned doesn’t look convinced. “Well, if you ever _aren’t_ fine… You can talk to me, you know? Or your dad, or even Happy.” They both look over to the car waiting for Peter, the window rolling down as Happy loses patience.

“I’m fine, Ned. If I’m not, you’ll be the first to know,” Peter says. “I gotta go.”

“Can I hug you?” Ned asks.

Peter hesitates. Ned hasn’t asked that in a long time. As they get older, the two don’t embrace as often as they used to. It saddens Peter. He likes hugging Ned. 

He nods. 

That night, Peter lays in bed and stares at the ceiling. He thinks of how close he is to freedom. Of becoming something worth living to be.

It’s almost enough.

When he tries hard enough, he can almost manage to ignore the sounds which pierce into his mind at night, whispering, S _pider, Spider,you’re nothing but my spider, our spider, nothing._

Almost.

* * *

 _He’s in the room. The room where people go to die. The only people to ever leave this room alive are loyal HYDRA agents, and The Spider. The Spider comes to the room to learn._  

 _They teach The Spider what happens to traitors, to people who are enemies of HYDRA. He learns from their mistakes._  

_The Spider remembers the woman. She was scared. She was chained to the wall, must have been for quite some time, as she was covered in her own urine._

_They had pushed The Spider into the room with the woman. She looked surprised to see him. She tried to smile at him, despite her fear._  

_“Hi,” she had said. “What’s your name?”_

_What was his name? Did he have one, anymore? He used to, when Mama was there. She isn’t anymore. Maybe she took his name with him._

_Talking is forbidden unless ordered by a superior. The Spider had remained silent._  

_“Can you unchain me? I promise I won’t hurt you. I’m an agent of SHIELD.”_

_SHIELD. Enemies of HYDRA. Must be punished._  

_“I can get you out of here.”_

_She was silly. There was no escaping HYDRA, besides death. She would know that soon. She was in the room where people go to die._  

_He remained silent. He tilted his head, watched her. The Spider wants to know what she did, to get caught by HYDRA. Had she tried to stop them, as many have and failed in the past?_

_“Please,” she had begged The Spider. Silly. Only The Spider begs, and nothing good ever comes from it._

_The door opened, and Sir walked in. The Spider straightened, as if to show Sir how good he has been._  

 _“My Spider,” Sir had said. “This woman is a HYDRA traitor.”_  

 _“I was never a HYDRA_ anything!” The woman screamed. 

_Sir ignored her. “Tell me, Spider, what do we do to HYDRA traitors?”_

_The Spider looked at the woman, avoiding eye contact with Sir as a good boy should. “Termination.”_  

_“Good boy.”_

_He remembers Sir taking the gun out, taunting the woman. Sir likes to play with his prey before he kills them. He remembers Sir telling The Spider that his turn would come soon enough, soon he would know what it felt like to put down HYDRA traitors._

_He remembers the piercing sound the bullet made as it shot out of the gun._  

_He remembers the woman’s eyes closing, accepting her fate, moments before he watched bits of her brain scatter along the wall behind her._

_He remembers the smell, after being kept in the room with her body._  

_He remembers all of this._

_He remembers how he felt while this happened._

_He did not feel horror, shame, sadness, pain._

_The Spider felt relief. The Spider felt pride._  

 _Sir told him he was a good boy, and that was worth feeling relief over._  

* * *

Peter wakes up the next morning, the memory fresh in his mind, his body light with relief, with pride.

No matter how long he showers, Peter can’t get the smell out of his nose, nor the sound out of his ears.

He feels dirty for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was 1/4 of this chapter just the darkness epilogue? darn tooting it was. i don’t care. i rewrote it so it was in Peter’s POV and they were in the setting I wanted but whatever. 
> 
> i have a work in process one-shot in the works that thats place a few months after darkness will be rewritten, so Peter is a child in it, so stay tuned for that! 
> 
> also, as I lay awake at night staring into the darkness of my own bedroom, i can’t help but ALWAYS think of what Peter would be like if Tony hadn’t found him until years later, how different would he be? it’s gotten so bad I think about while I’m at work and I get sad in the middle of my JOB. 
> 
> basically the main point i’m trying to make is: 
> 
> would anybody be interested in a story (after this one is completed) as a AU of this AU, where Tony finds Peter at age 14/15 instead of 6, how things would be different, etc? 
> 
> Let me know and if you think it’s an awful idea i’ll just have to plague my mind with more thoughts. i work thursday-sunday so i definitely will not be writing before that, so i would expect the next update sometime early next week? let’s say tuesday.


	5. today was a good day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i can’t write origin stories for shit apparently, so you get an immediate three month later situation so i can jump into the PAIN

Today was a good day.

Peter had gotten almost five hours of sleep last night, more than he had received in weeks, his latest chemistry test came back with a one hundred percent, and now then he got to go on patrol.

Patrolling is both everything he assumed it would be, and nothing at all.

Peter isn’t sure what he thought would happen from day one, perhaps stopping evil criminals with seriously derailed motives, or taking down giant hybrid science experiments out to kill the human race, maybe. Things that would make an Avenger proud.

That is nothing like what his patrols are like.

Not that the things he does handle aren’t _important,_ they simple aren’t as riveting as they could be.

Peter has been going behind his dad’s back and secretly patrolling the city, with a great deal of help from Ned, for the good portion of three months. For the most part, Tony seems to be oblivious to all of it, perhaps noting that Peter is spending more time out of the tower than normal.

About two weeks ago, Tony brought up Peter’s absence from the tower, claiming he never sees his son anymore. Peter had feigned innocence, claiming he is just trying to live up to his teenager expectations, hang out with his friends and whatnot.

His dad had furrowed his eyebrows, looking his he was going to derail the conversation, but quickly shrugged it off and laughed, claiming that he was young once too.

Peter likes patrolling. Not just for the benefit of helping people out, which is an added bonus. No, he likes it because he likes to observe the people around him. Many nights, when the air is quiet and his senses are dull with no warning, he will sit upon rooftops and observe the city. 

He sees a father and his son, going for late night ice cream, the older man warning his child to keep their adventure a secret from his mother. He smiles along with the boy’s giggles, feeling apart of the hushed secret.

He watches as a woman struggles to shift all of her groceries into one hand as she locks her car, before a young man rushes out of the house to assist her. 

He smiles at the elderly couple who visits an old style diner frequently, hand in hand as if they have just met, beaming at each other without a care in the world.

He laughs along with a group of young boys, running to chase a soccer ball that had escaped their grasp and rolled down the street. 

Peter likes these small moments. It is almost like watching the life he could have had, without HYDRA. Without Tony.

Tony is a wonderful dad, but no amount of good parenting and gentle care can make up for a childhood of suffering. The pain is always with Peter.

He wasn’t able to play outside with his friends, kicking a soccer ball around. He won’t be able to help his mother carry her groceries in the house. He never got to go for late night ice cream with his dad, not without fear.

Peter doesn’t think he will be able to be a half of that happy elderly, either. How could he, when every thought of even _romantic love,_ let alone… _sex,_ makes him think of Bubba. Peter doesn’t think he will _ever_ want to have sex, no matter who he is with.

Grace says that that’s okay. That there are others, out there, who don’t want to have sex. _Asexual,_ she called it. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

“It’s a lack of or very low amount of sexual attraction to others,” Grace had explained. 

Peter had sat still in his chair, staring at her. “So they don’t get… um,” he trails off, staring in the general direction of his groin, hoping she got the memo.

Grace hummed. “Asexual men do still get them, Peter. It’s human anatomy. You know this,” she explained gently.

“I don’t… I don’t think I am,” he said.

“Okay,” she had replied, smiling gently. “Only you can determine who you are, Peter.” 

“I have…,” Peter trails off, suddenly hit with a burst of confidence. “I have… dreams.” 

“Sexual dreams?” she had asked. 

Peter flinched. He nodded, then shrugged. 

“That’s quite common in boys your age, you know,” she had tried to comfort him, sensing his distress.

 _I bet it isn’t common to dream about the man who made them suck him off when they were a child, though,_ he had thought. 

“Do the dreams focus on any specific person?” Grace had asked. 

Peter nodded. 

“Would you be interested in telling me who they focus on?” 

Quickly, Peter shook his head, a deep blush gathering to his cheeks. 

 _Don’t,_ the voice in his head had screamed. _She’ll know you’re just a sick pervert. Who gets pleasure from memories that are supposed to scare them?_

 _“_ Peter,” Grace had said gently. “There isn’t anything to be ashamed of, here.” 

 _There is,_ the voice shouted. _There is so, so much to be ashamed of._

So, yeah. He doesn’t think he could ever have a relationship where he grows old and has a thousand grandchildren.

That’s okay, though. He can watch.

His patrols aren’t too exciting, for the most part. He stops petty theft, the occasional bar brawl, that sort of thing. He isn’t too sure how much he is helping, though he supposes small things are better than nothing. He’s still learning. 

Tonight had been pretty eventful, if he thinks about it. Peter had gone from school to Ned’s house, dropped off his phone like usual, picked up the burner phone, and started swinging around the city.

Ned and Peter realized early on that the best way to avoid Tony’s alert would be to do the patrols in mostly Queens, sometimes venturing to other places. Hells Kitchen seemed like his best bet, until a certain masked devil had turned Peter away the minute he heard his voice and immediately decided he was too young for ‘his league’. 

The first thing Peter has done was guide some lost tourists to Times Square. He isn’t quite sure how the young men had ended up in Queens, but he assumed it was either a lack of communication between them and the cap driver, or the guy had simply conned them out of there money.

Whatever it was, Peter had given them enough money to take another back to Times Square. It was the least he could do, with the crazy amount of allowance his dad gives him a week. 

He quickly kept up his day, quickly moving from catching a woman pickpocketing an old man and stopping her, to stopping what seems like it could have been a very dangerous car crash. The driver of the first car has stopped to avoid a cat in the middle of the road, slamming on his breaks hard enough that the car behind him had nearly crashed right into his bumper. Peter, however, had sensed the danger and been there to quickly catch car. He even got to walk to cat to the nearest vet, too, which was a bonus.

Sooner than he would have liked, however, he knew it was getting too late to keep patrolling, as he can only “watch Star Wars with Ned” so many times before his dad gets suspicious. 

As he swung back to Ned’s, Peter pondered his few months as Spiderman. Sure, it wasn’t what he thought it would be. He isn’t helping people from life threatening situations, for the most part, but he is helping them. He supposes that’s as good as he is going to get, at this point. 

He and Ned had considered telling Tony about Spiderman. They had even listed the pros and cons, as all good decision making demands them. 

Pros: Tony may let Peter train more. Peter may get cooler missions, and be able to use his powers more. 

Cons: There was no way his dad would ever let Peter on _any_ mission, let alone a cool one. His dad wouldn’t understand and would take away his web shooters and his lab access.

The cons outweighed the pros by a mile. 

* * *

Peter knows the minute he climbs through Ned’s window that something is wrong. His best friend’s face, for one, shows an immense amount of guilt. Secondly, Peter’s phone is on Ned’s desk, lighting up from what looks like the thousandth call from the only person Peter can think of that would call more than once.

His dad.

“Dude!” Peter yells. “You’re supposed to answer the phone and tell him I’m peeing!”

“I did that, Peter!” Ned says. “Twice! And another time I told him you were in the kitchen getting us snacks! There’s only so many times a guy can pee before people think he has a bladder infection!”

“So you ignored him?” Peter accuses. 

“I’m sorry! I panicked!” Ned yells.

“Ned!” Peter screams, hands going to tug at his curls. He jumps to his phone, quickly pressing it to his ear.

The minute the call is connected, Tony’s voice comes forward with no kind of formal greeting. 

“Happy’s just around the corner. You better be in his car in less than two minutes. _”_

The call is then cut off before Peter can get out any kind of response. He desperately looks to Ned.

“Is he mad?” Ned asks.

Peter shoots him in incredulous look, sighing, before grabbing his bag and leaving Ned’s room without saying goodbye, his friend shouting questions at his back.

Happy’s car pulls up the minute Peter steps out of the building, and he slips into the car.

“Hey, kid,” Happy says, sounding none too happy at the boy.

“Hey,” Peter whispers back, tears gathering in his eyes. His nails find their way into his forearm, digging into the skin to help him stay afloat. 

Today had been a good day, up until now. Peter should have known better than to think it was going to last. Nothing good ever seems to last for long. 

His dad doesn’t yell at him often. He punishes him even less. Peter now knows the proper way that parents are supposed to discipline their kids, without any physical, mental, or emotional harm, in the form of less privileges and perhaps a stern talking to.

Tony doesn’t do that often. 

Peter remembers a time when he was maybe seven or eight, he had overheard a conversation Tony was having with Pepper about discipling Peter. 

He isn’t sure what made him so angry, looking back at it, though it must have been important to Peter’s young self. Whatever the cause, in his fit of rage he had grabbed the closest thing his little arms could reach, which happened to be a vial of some sort of chemical which exploded when exposed with oxygen, and threw it across the room.

A small explosion on the other side of the lab later, and Tony had yelled at Peter in a stern voice the boy had never heard before. Looking back, the tone could have been more worried than angry, though the two sounded so similar to the small boy, that Peter had immediately burst into tears and ran to his bedroom.

Despite Tony’s coaxing for Peter to come down, apologizing for scaring him, Peter remained hidden in his bed for the rest of the evening.

Around one in the morning, Peter had climbed down from his bed, seeking the comforting arms of his father despite the earlier afflictions, and had come across Pepper and Tony sitting together on a couch in Tony’s room.

“-Just don’t know how I’m supposed to react in those situations, Pep,” Tony had been saying.

“He needs to know that reacting like that isn’t okay, Tony. You weren’t yelling at him,” She had said.

“He thought I was going to hurt him. I saw the look in his eyes,” Tony said. “How do you discipline a child who’s been through all that Peter has?”

Not wanting to hear any more, Peter had run back to his room and hid under his blankets, deciding then and there that he would never be bad again and force his dad to have to be mad at him ever again.

What good of a promise that was.

Happy remains silent the entire drive back to the Tower, occasionally shooting Peter glances as he stares dejectedly out the window.

When they return to the tower, Peter sighs and accepts his fate, though still takes his time and takes the stairs to delay the inevitable.

His dad is sitting on the couch in the living area, tablet in hand and not looking at him. Peter isn’t sure if he is supposed to start talking, and realizes that he hasn’t come up with an excuse this time.

Just as Peter is opening his mouth to spew out whatever last minute lie he can make sound somewhat believable, Tony talks first. 

“I don’t want to hear any bullshit excuse today, Peter.”

“I… I,” Peter trails off. 

“You can’t even answer your phone now?” 

“I was just at Ned’s…,” Peter whispers.

“I called you _nine_ times, kid,” Tony snaps. “ _Nine._ Of those nine phone calls, Ned answered three of them, telling me you were peeing. What, did you drink ten gallons of water at school today?” 

“I’m sorry…,” Peter whispers. 

“Sorry isn’t going to _cut it,_ this time,” Tony says.

Peter flinches back slightly. He’s never had an argument this serious before, with his dad. He remains silent, waiting for his dad to continue.

“You missed your dinner with Ben and May, tonight. That’s the third one, this month. What excuse did you give them?”

Oh. So that’s what this is about.

“I just wasn’t feeling very good, dad… I told them that,” Peter says, hands wringing together.

“Right… Except you managed to go to Ned’s and eat snacks all night?”

“I’m sorry,” Peter says again. “I’ll call and reschedule, I promise.” 

“It’s not just about that, Peter,” Tony says. “This is about your behaviour. Not just today. Not just the last few weeks. It’s been going on for _months,_ kid.”

“I… what?” Peter asks. He hadn’t realized his behaviour had changed. 

“You spend every waking hour with Ned, and I can accept that, I can, you’re a teenager and I’m glad you have a friend as good as Ned,” his dad says. “But you’re withdrawn. You barely eat anymore. JARVIS told me you aren’t sleeping.” 

 _Traitor,_ the voice says.

“That’s not true,” Peter says.

“Oh, for the love of _God,_ Peter,” Tony snaps at him. “What the hell has gotten into you? You’re this ghost just roaming around the tower, coming and going as you please.”

Peter feels a surge of anger rush inside him. The need to defend himself ties together with it, and he finds himself screaming back at his dad.

“Oh, so because I’m not your prisoner anymore, I’m suddenly a ghost of my old self, is that it?”

“My _prisoner?”_ His dad yells. “Is that what you think you are?”

“I wasn’t allowed to leave the tower for _months_ after I came here,” Peter yells. “Even now, I can’t leave without supervision. I can’t get myself to school, or to Ned’s, or _anywhere.”_  

 _“_ That is all for your _protection!”_ Tony yells. 

Peter releases a long, sarcastic laugh. “My _protection?_ I don’t _need_ that kind of protection, dad, and you know it! You’re doing it to control me!”

“Oh, of course, I’m the bad guy here, is that it?” Tony asks. “I’m your _captor_ and am, what, what am I doing that’s so bad?”

“You don’t let me do anything for myself, dad!” Peter yells. “You’re no better than-,” he cuts himself off before he can finish the sentence. His dad isn’t like them. His dad loves him. It seems, however, that the damage is done, and Tony understands what he was trying to say.

“No better than HYDRA, is that right? Why don’t you go back, then, see who treats you better?”

 _Go back go back go back go back go back._  

Peter freezes in his tracks. His entire body seems as if it has been paralyzed on the spot.

_You remember what happens to spiders when they’re nothing but a bother, correct?_

_You’re always going to belong to me._

_I knew you were always going to be exactly what HYDRA wanted you to be._

_Come here, Spider._

_Do you not want to be good for us?_

“Peter?” He hears suddenly, and he looks up with wide eyes, seeing his dad staring down at him. His hands are on either side of Peter’s face, and they're wet, his face is wet, why is everything wet, when did he start crying?

_Go back go back go back go back go back._

His dad is talking, but Peter can’t hear him, he can’t hear anything over the voice, and it has never been this loud before.

_Go back go back go back go back go back._

Peter flinches away from the touch, shying away from the hands and curling into himself, making himself as small as possible.

 _It’s not safe, not safe, need to leave, Spider cannot go back, Spider is replaceable, Spider will be terminated upon return._  

“M’sorry,” Peter mumbles. “M’sorry, _m’sorry,_ don’ send me back, I’ll be _good.”_  

Tony has tears in his eyes, staring at Peter. He talks again, but Peter cannot hear him, he’s deaf, all he hears is the voice.

_Not safe._

Peter runs. 

* * *

Peter remembers being seven or eight, and he had just made his dad angrier than he had ever seen him. He had caused an explosion in the lab, throwing that vial across the room.

He remembers being terrified of being sent back, of Tony realizing that Peter was just like _them,_ hiding in his nook and waiting.

He remembers when his dad first walked into the room, how he had stayed there for hours, trying everything to get him to come down, and how all Peter wanted was to be in the comfort of the man’s arms. 

Tony doesn’t come tonight.

Peter lays on his bed, eyes trained on the door, waiting for it to open. Waiting for… waiting for _something._ To be comforted, to be kicked out, he didn’t know.

Nothing came. Not tonight.

And to think, he thought today was a good day.

* * *

 _“_ Hey buddy.”

Peter opens his eyes. His dad.

He wasn’t sleeping. He doesn’t know how long it has been since he has slept.

“Petey, can you look at me?”

He stares at the wall. He doesn’t know why, but he can’t turn around. He can’t.

He isn’t sure how long he’s been here. He can’t find the energy to move, let alone check the time.

What he does know, is that people have been coming and going. Bringing food that is left uneaten. Taken away and replaced with more. 

He can’t eat it.

He’s tired.

“Peter, I’m _so_ sorry.”

 _You don’t deserve him,_ the voice says softly. He isn’t sure if the voice is worse when it’s loud or quiet.

Tears gather in Peter’s eyes. He wants to say sorry, that he didn’t mean what he said. That he loves Tony.

He can’t.

He’s really tired.

He hears his dad sigh behind him. 

“Okay, bud. You can take as long as you need to come down, okay, but you _need_ to eat. I don’t want you to get sick.” 

 _I’m already sick. If you know what my mind creates at night, you’d know, too. You’d be disgusted._  

“I am going to leave this plate down here, okay? You eat it when you feel like, baby.”

Tony waits a few more minutes, and Peter feels him staring at his back, turned from the door.

“I love you _so much,_ Peter. I would never want you to leave. I’m going to regret saying what I did for the rest of my life.”

Realizing he is going to receive no answer, Tony turns and leaves the room, gently closing the door behind him.

I  _love you, too,_ Peter thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't blame tony he is trying his best and peter is falling apart and he doesn't understand how to help 
> 
> please keep in mind that i COMPLETELY supportive of ALL sexual orientations, and reading this may seem to some that there is a bad overview of asexuality, though this is simply peter trying desperately to come into terms with his own sexuality, especially with his past sexual abuse. The doubt Peter has does not reflect my own thoughts of the manner in ANY way. i love and support all of you.


	6. it's hard to hold a candle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i’m back only 2 weeks after i told tumblr i would have it up but its the longest chapter yet so that makes up for it? 
> 
> tw: this chapter includes abuse and intent to inflict harm on an animal.  
> this chapter includes an attempted sexual assault on one’s own partner.  
> this chapter also includes a very VERY bad memory of a sexual assault on a child. It’s bad. It’s the worst this fic will get. If you want to avoid this scene but read the rest of the chapter, it starts after the page cut after “it’s all he can remember” and remains until the end of the chapter.  
> tread lightly.

Peter is sitting in the shower, arms wrapped around his knees and head head tucked between his legs as he feels the steady stream of scalding water hit his back.

He had another accident.

He isn’t sure how long he stayed in his bed, but it must have been enough time that once he finally managed to fall asleep, he was awoken once again to urine soaking through his bed.

As disgusting as it made Peter feel, he contemplated staying in his bed. He didn’t want to get up.

But he did.

He left the sheets where they were, slowly drying and forever tainting the sheets. He doesn’t care, he just wants to feel clean.

Why is so hard to feel clean?

Peter closes his eyes and sighs. He needs to do something. He can’t stay this way forever.

He wants to go on patrol, but what would he say to his dad? Would his dad even let him leave the Tower? 

Peter promised himself, as he stared at his wall, that he would never do anything to make his dad angry, ever again. He had laid there, thinking of the promise he had made himself when he was a child. Clearly, he betrayed that promise once, but swore that this time he would not. No matter what.

“Peter,” JARVIS says. “You have been in the shower for over twenty minutes. Any longer, and I am obligated to lower to temperature of the water.”

Peter sighs once again. “M’getting out.”

After he steps out of the shower and gets dressed, the entire time glad that the steam fogged up the room so much that he couldn’t see his reflection in the mirror, Peter decides what he is going to do.

 _He got mad because you missed dinner with Aunt May and Uncle Ben,_ Peter thinks to himself. 

He just has to go their apartment and apologize. He can prove to his dad that he isn’t a bad kid, that he didn’t bail on them for a bad purpose, that he still loves them.

When Peter steps out of the bathroom, he immediately hears movement in the kitchen.

Now that he focuses on it, it seems that hiding away on his bed for that long a period of time, his senses have gone into overdrive. He can smell everything, including the faint smell of piss coming out of his bedroom. He keeps being caught off guard by the ant that’s crawling on the floor, and he hears _everything._  

Pulling at a strand of his own hair to attempt to control his senses, Peter walks to the elevator.

As he steps into the living area, he sees his dad’s head pop up over the divider from the kitchen.

“Pete?” Tony asks.

He looks bad. Peter knows he shouldn’t be judging that, especially because he is sure that he himself looks terrible. However, the bags under his dad’s eyes are looking like deep bruises, and there is hint of red blotching in the whites of his eyes.

From what Peter can see over the divider, Tony is wearing a much too old hoodie that he probably hasn’t taken off in days. 

He isn’t taking care of himself. 

“I…,” Peter trails off, trying to come up with the proper thing to say. 

His dad is acting as if Peter were a frightened deer who had made its way into the tower. He is slowly inching away from the divider and closer to the door of the kitchen, to enter the living space where Peter is standing. So slow, that if Peter had normal human senses, he would have to look twice to even see the man moving at all.

“Hey, buddy,” Tony says quietly, as if any loud sound would scare him off again, back into the hole in his wall. “Are you hungry?” 

Peter shakes his head. “I… I’m gonna go out,” he mumbles.

His dad sighs. “Pete,”-

“I want to go see Ben and May,” Peter says quickly, cutting the older man off.

Tony looks taken aback. “Okay…,” he says, brows furrowing. “Yeah. Any reason why?”

Peter looks at his feet, his toes curling into the carpet. “I want to apologize. You know, for missing so many dinners and stuff.”

“Peter…” 

“I just want them to hear it from me,” Peter says. “It’s not about you.”

Just barely there, but enough that Peter is able to detect it with vibrant awareness, Tony flinches.

“I mean,” Peter quickly rushes to explain himself. “It’s not about what you said, but it kind of it, you know? I’m not mad about that, they want to see me and I keep bailing, and that’s wrong of me, so I want to tell them in person.”

Tony sighs. “Okay. Sure. I can drive you over?” 

Peter hesitates. He was planning on swinging over, giving himself some air before he faced them. He doesn’t want to be stuck in the car with his dad for that long of a time, not when his mind is feeling suffocated just being inside, let alone with the man Peter has been trying to keep from knowing everything. About Spiderman. About his accidents. About his disgusting, perverted dreams.

 _You said you would never do anything to make him angry again,_ his mind whispers. _He’ll be mad if you don’t let him drive you._  

“Okay.”

* * *

The ride over is quiet, something Peter is grateful for. His dad doesn’t try to make small talk, but rather puts on music on a low volume, as background music.

About halfway through the drive, a song begins playing that draws Peter’s attention from the view of the passing cars. His eyes draw away from the window, and towards the speakers. It’s familiar. He isn’t sure how it’s familiar, but it fills him with a sense of comfort. 

“I used to sing this to you,” His dad says suddenly.

“You… what?” Peter says.

Tony nods. “When you were a kid. I’m a bad singer, obviously, but you never seemed to mind.” 

Peter is quiet, though his mind is running a mile a minute, trying to figure out when exactly his dad sang this song to him.

“November Rain, Guns N’ Roses. Nothing significant, it just happened to be in my head at the time, and I started singing.”

“I… I don’t remember,” Peter says.

His dad hums. “You were six. You had been with us for less than a day. All alone, do I decided to keep you company.” 

Peter suddenly gets flashes. A small, barren room. A bed, which Peter had refused to go near. White walls, whiter and cleaner than he had ever seen.

“You were scared, so I sat across the room from where you were huddled up against the wall, and I waited for almost an hour, but you crawled over to me on the ceiling and sat right next to me.”

He remembers. He remembers how soft the man had spoken to him, how gentle he had been, how patient. Peter remembered being awfully curious to his patience. He wanted to see what was so interesting on his tablet that turned his attention away from The Spider for so long.

“You showed me my X-Ray,” Peter says. 

Tony glances over to him from his view on the road. “Yup. You liked it.”

Peter remembers holding onto Tony’s hand, asking him if he thought Peter had been good. If he thought he was a good boy.

 _Good boy._  

He shudders. He remembers how he had been, the first few months living at the Tower. In his mind, he hadn’t known any kindness besides what Bubba had given him. And these people were awfully kind to him, giving him his own room and smoothies that tasted good. They never yelled or hurt him, something even Bubba had done, when The Spider had been bad.

He remembers thinking Tony would want things from him that Bubba wanted. That it was perfectly acceptable for him to do them, because Tony was nice.

Tears begin welling up in Peter’s eyes. He knows his dad would _never_ do anything to hurt him, and he hates himself for ever thinking that the man would. He didn’t even think it was _bad,_ thought that it didn’t physically hurt so it was a kindness, that everything Bubba did was _fine,_ that-

“I would sing it to you when you were awake at night from bad dreams,” Tony said. 

Peter doesn’t respond, but looks towards his dad in question. 

“For a few years, until you were nine maybe? Maybe eight. I don’t know when it stopped. I would sit with you on the sofa and you would put your head on my chest and I would sing to you.” 

Peter still doesn’t respond. He can’t remember. How many nights have they stayed up together, Peter’s nightmares causing endless sleepless nights for the older man? He can’t even remember, yet simply hearing the song filled him with comfort, so he must subconsciously remember, right?

He is torn from his own thoughts when he realizes that his dad has started singing along to the song.

He remembers. Remembers the night he slept alone for the first time, in his brand new nook bed and Tony in his own room, unable to spend the whole night in there alone, without the comfort of the man. He remembers the night before he first met Ned, the night before he went to school for the first time, and every night in between that he had a nightmare.

Every time, Tony would be there. Every night, his dad would sacrifice both his sleep and most likely his back, sleeping on the couch with Peter, as the boy was deathly afraid of beds. His head would lay on Tony’s chest, hands cupped around the arc reactor he had begun to think of a flashlight, and Tony would hum or sing that song to him.

The tears finally spill out of his eyes, but for the first time in months, the tears shed are ones of relief.

The two spend the rest of the drive in silence, apart from Tony’s singing and the occasional sniffle that escapes Peter.

As the car pulls up at the Parker’s apartment, Tony switches the music off.

Peter coughs. “You’re right, you are a bad singer.” 

Tony looks at him and laughs. Peter laughs too. It’s the first sense of normality the boy has felt in a long time.

Right as Peter is about to step out of the car, Tony turns to him.

“Peter,” he pause, either to compose himself or simply for dramatic effect, Peter doesn’t know. “What I said to you was wrong.”

Peter nods. “It’s okay,”-

“It’s not okay,” Tony cuts him off. “It’s definitely not okay. We both were saying hurtful things and I took it too far. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m the parent, here.” 

“Dad, it’s okay,” Peter says.

“Just let me apologize, okay?” Tony says. “It will make your old man feel better.” 

Peter nods. “Only if I can apologize to you, too.”

“For what?” 

Peter furrows his brows. “I’ve been a really bad son, dad. I sneak out all the time, like you said, and I worry you and don’t answer my phone. I didn’t mean anything I was saying, I just got… defensive. I’m sorry.” 

“You’re a kid, Peter. I know you think you’re not,” Tony says. “But you are. You’re _my_ kid. You’re supposed to say things that make their parents angry. I’m not supposed to hit back the way I did, though. I guess I wasn’t used to having a teenager that wasn’t always nice. But that’s not the point.

“The point is,” Tony continues. “That I said something that obviously triggered you, Peter. You were scared, and you were scared of _me._ I’ve never regretted something as much as I regret that.”

“It wasn’t like that…,” Peter trails off. 

“It was. And it was a completely reasonable reaction. I am _so_ sorry for saying that, Petey, and I want you to know that there is _nothing_ in the world you could do, or _anyone_ could do, to make me want you to leave.”

Peter sniffs. “I know, dad.” He wipes the residual tears from his cheeks. “I don’t think you’re the same as _them,_ either. You’re one thousand percent better than they could even pretend to be.”

Tony smiles softly. “Can I hug you?”

Peter nods, and throws himself at his dad, awkwardly hugging him around the gear shift of the car. Tony’s hand goes to his head, stroking his hand through the curls that are running wild.

“I love you _so much,_ baby, you know that?”

Peter nods. “I love you too, ‘Nee.” 

If his dads arm’s tightened around him a bit more, well, Peter isn’t complaining.

* * *

He doesn’t know what he was expecting to happen at Ben and May’s apartment, but a complete disaster wasn’t technically on the list.

The apology, for the most part, went fine. The two shrugged it off, May saying she knows how busy teenagers can be, Ben making some joke about how he knows it has something to do with Peter avoiding May’s awful cooking. They were just worried about him, they claimed.

He gets that, he does. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel bad about it. 

He sits at their table, sipping a mug of weird herbal tea May swears upon, wondering how much he can drink before it was polite enough to leave alone, when Ben brings up something Peter really did not want him to. 

“You know, buddy, I thought that maybe you were avoiding us because it’s that time of year.” 

Peter’s eyebrows furrow. Time of year? As far as he knows, the only time of year that people worry about is Peter’s birthday, the day Tony adopted him, and the day they found him at the HYDRA base. They’re nowhere near any of these dates. 

“What do you mean, Uncle Ben?” Peter asks.

“You know, it being the anniversary and all…”

“The anniversary of what?”

Ben and May share a look. Peter sees this look between Tony and Pepper, a lot. He assumes it must be some kind of married couple thing.

“Of the plane crash, sweetie,” May says. 

The plane crash. The one that killed his father, and supposedly Peter and his mother, as well. 

“I didn’t know…” Peter trails off. He is confused. Is he supposed to feel bad, feel truly upset about it. In all the events of Peter’s life, this one seems low.

“Does Tony not tell you about your parents?” Ben asks.

Peter flinches. “Tony _is_ my parent.”

“Honey, we know that,” May says. “We know Tony’s a great dad to you, but you cannot forget your biological parents.”

“I don’t,” Peter says. “My mother was with me at HYDRA, and that’s all I remember about her. I remember that she was strong, and she must have been scared, but she was always so brave, and she died making sure I was safe.”

He’s getting angry. How _dare_ they assume that Peter forgot his mother? Peter loves that woman more than anyone can even imagine, and for all the heartbreak her memory brings, it also brings him comfort, knowing that even before his life with Tony Stark, there was someone who loved him enough to fight for him.

“But what about before that, Peter?” May asks. “Do you not want to remember anything about your parents from before? Anything about your father?”

“I know they painted my room a million colours because they couldn’t agree on one simple colour,” Peter says. “I know my father worked all the time and I just got in his way.” 

“Hey there, young man,” Ben says sternly. “You stop right there. Your father did nothing before loving you.”

“I’m not saying he didn’t love me,” Peter says, shrugging. “He seemed in love with his work, and maybe if he wasn’t, so much, the plane crash wouldn’t have even happened, and they would be alive, and I wouldn’t be like this.”

“Do you honestly think that’s true?” Ben shouts. He stands up from his spot at the table. “You think my baby brother willingly put his family in harm? If he had known… If he knew that would happen, he wouldn’t have got on that plane, let alone taken you on it!”

Peter inches away from his uncle. “I’m sorry, Ben. I don’t know anything about him. I know he wouldn’t have put me in danger, but if he hadn’t _illegally_ played with genetics the way he did, using his own DNA, none of this would have happened.”

“Are you that selfish that you would think that?” Ben is on the verge of screaming. “What would your mother think, knowing you think of your father that way? Do you seriously think she accept that?” 

 _It’s your fault she’s dead,_ the voice screams. _You can pretend to blame Richard Parker, but you’ll always know it was just you._  

Peter flinches away. “No,” he whispers. “No, I’m sorry.”

 _Mama,_ he had screamed, begged, waiting for her to wake up, but she never did, because of him. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, and he must have looked half insane, because Ben stopped screaming, and he looked worried, but Peter knows, he knows that Ben knows the truth. Knows Peter is the one responsible for his mother’s death.

“I… I should go… M’sorry,” He says, quickly grabbing his bag and his shoes, running out the door. 

He hears the two of them shouting behind them, but he doesn’t care. He needs to get away.

He isn’t sure where to go. To his dad, maybe. They were on good terms now, right? To Ned, maybe, but Peter isn’t about to put more of his shit on to his best friend. There is only so much someone can take before they get sick of you.

He couldn’t protect his mother, but he can protect others, now. That was what he wanted, right? He can go on patrol, prove he isn’t a murderer. 

So that’s what he does.

He isn’t out for more than ten minutes, tears hidden behind his mask, shaken and unbalanced, before he finds what he is looking for.

There’s only two of them, and they are harassing a small dog, deep in an alley way. Anybody passing by the alley would be able to see something, but not hear enough to know what was going on. Peter can.

They are drunk. He knows this for sure. The stench of liquor in the alley is too strong to be residue from other people, and is wafting off them. The one man has the small dog held down, while the other brings out a pocketknife and is about to start cutting the dog, and the sick bastards are _laughing,_ and it’s too much, he hears the dog whimpering even before the knife makes contact, so Peter starts yelling.

“Hey, losers! Why don’t you pick on someone who can put up a good fight?”

Both of their heads jerk up from the dog. The one man loses his grip on the dog, and the animal scurries off with a whimper, tail between its legs. 

“Hey, it’s that Spider guy!”

“Came to ruin our fun!”

“Maybe we can have fun with you, hm?” The man with the knife says, taking a swing at Peter, but he is too quick, leaning away from the man.

“You know, you shouldn’t hurt dogs, they are man’s best friend, and all that.” Peter says.

“Maybe we should instead deal with crushing the spiders, hm?” The other man says, joining in on the fight.

_You remember what happens to spiders when they’re nothing but a bother, correct?_

Peter hesitates. He knows he shouldn’t have, he has heard much worse in the past, but his mental state has been awful for the past few days, and his senses are still going haywire, and it isn’t until the knife is going into his stomach that he stops to think _maybe I shouldn’t have gone on patrol._

The knife actually making impact with his body must have scared the men off, because Peter is suddenly alone in the alley, blood pouring out of him, stumbling. He isn’t sure if he should call someone, or 911, or what. He’s lost. His body is screaming in pain.

What alley is he even in? Is he still in Queens, or has he made his way back to Manhattan? His feet are moving, but where are they taking him? Everything is a blur, and he stumbles over his own feet more than once.

He isn’t sure if he blacked out, or simply lost track of time, but suddenly Peter is aware of distant whimpers. It’s not the dog, this time time. It’s a woman. With his hand using the building in front of him as support, he gets up, and stumbles towards the sound.

He freezes when he sees where the sound is coming from. A man is on top of a woman, outside of a bar. She’s telling him to get off of her, and he isn’t listening. He’s taking off her pants, and he’s mumbling things to her. Crude, awful things, but one thing really pierces into Peter’s brain, something he has heard before, long ago.

He may have forgotten that his dad used to sing to him, but he will never forget when Bubba said these words to him, words that are being said right now, in front of him.

“You fucking love it, don’t you.”

He didn’t even know that he had been moving, but one second Peter hears the words, and the next he is ripping the man away from her, slamming him into the wall beside him. 

“She doesn’t fucking love it, you monster!” Peter screams, landing punch after punch into the man’s gut. “She was begging you to stop! She doesn’t like it!”

As he punches the man, he notices that the woman didn’t run away, like the dog did. She’s crying, she’s telling him to stop. She’s telling _Peter_ to stop. 

He stops.

The man is bruised and bloody, and spits on Peter’s shoes. He looks toward the woman and spits in her direction, too.

“You aren’t worth my time, Shannon,” he says. “If you aren’t home in fifteen minutes, I’m burning all your clothes.”

With one last look towards Peter, the man stumbles away from the bar.

“Why would you do that?!” She screams at Peter.

He flinches away. “He was hurting you, you were telling him to stop, you didn’t _want_ it.” 

“He’s my boyfriend! He loves me! He’s drunk, he didn’t mean it!”

 _“No,”_ Peter gasps. He sees black spots on the corner of his vision. “You deserve better than him, he doesn’t love you, if he hurts you like that he isn’t capable of loving you, he _doesn’t!”_

The woman stops yelling at him. She looks down at his stomach. “You’re bleeding,” she says. 

He’s scared. “M’sorry, you… you shouldn’t be scared to go home, or to see him… M’sorry I hit him, but he was hurt’n you n’… n’ he shouldn’t be…” 

“Hey, Spiderman, stay awake!” She yells.

“You… you didn’t fuckin’ love ’t,” he mumbles, head slamming against the hard ground. 

It’s all he remembers.

* * *

_“That’s right, angel,” Bubba moans. “Just like that.”_

_The Spider isn’t sure what he did differently._

_“Take it deeper, Spider, my good boy.”_

_The Spider isn’t sure that’s possible, but Bubba seems to be doing the work, pushing in and The Spider is coughing around it, but Bubba likes that, so he supposes it’s allowed._

_“You’re made for this, they should just keep you as a fuck toy, hm?”_

_The Spider isn’t sure what that means. He supposes if it’s better than the cutting. That was this morning. At least Bubba isn’t hurting him._  

_With a groan, Bubba’s… thing, begins spilling, letting The Spider know that it’s almost over._

_The Spider hates the taste of it. It stays in his mouth for days._

_“That’s right, you fucking love it, don’t you?” Bubba says, as he withdraws from The Spider’s mouth and watches as the boy licks his lips._

_The man pushes his pants back up, and sits on the bed. The Spider remains kneeling on the chair. He isn’t tall enough to reach where Bubba wants without the chair, when he’s kneeling._

_Bubba likes when he kneels._

_“Come here, angel.”_  

_The Spider walks onto the bed, and crawls beside Bubba. The man lifts him up, hands under his butt, and places him right on top of the man, so The Spider is face down onto his chest._

_“Do you love me, Spider?”_

_The Spider looks up at Bubba. He nods._

_“You like sucking on me, right? Making me feel good?”_  

_The Spider doesn’t know how that can make someone feel good. It seems really weird and gross to him. He thinks it should hurt._

_Bubba likes it, though. It doesn’t matter what The Spider thinks. At least Bubba isn’t hurting him._  

_He nods._

_Bubba laughs. “You’re an angel.”_

_His hands are trailing up and down the Spider’s back, over scars that have long healed. “You’re getting very big, you know.”_

_The Spider frowns. Sir says Spider is too small._

_“I remember when I first saw you,” Bubba continues. “You were so tiny. So beautiful. But you’re turning into an even more beautiful thing, aren’t you? And you learn so well. Such a good boy.”_

_The praise makes The Spider’s chest swell with pride. He rarely is praised for his good work. Bubba is an exception to that._

_“Do you think you’re ready for me to take you? Fully, maybe next time?” Bubba asks._

_The Spider isn’t sure what that means. Take him where? He has already been to every spot of the base, besides the guards towers. Perhaps that is what Bubba means. Surely the man knows that the Spider is forbidden to go there._

_Bubba must sense his hesitation, because the next thing The Spider knows, the man is pinching him very hard. He flinches._  

_“Don’t you love me? Nobody else loves you, Spider. Only me.”_

_The Spider nods. Of course he loves Bubba. Bubba takes care of him._  

 _“Say it, baby boy. Tell me you love me.”_  

 _Only Sir can give him permission to speak. But, Sir gives Bubba permission to take the Spider into his chambers, so surely he is giving The Spider permission to speak, if Bubba orders it._  

_“I love you, Bubba,” The Spider says._

_Bubba gives him a smile that puts a weird feeling into his stomach._

“ _I love you too, Spider. Only me.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i hope that was worth the wait. 
> 
> bubba is the worst. 
> 
> tony is the best. 
> 
> please leave a comment or message me on tumblr to give feedback or ask any questions! 
> 
> i have the whole outline for this fic planned it's just when i feel mentally up to writing such a draining topic. this fic gives me nightmares.
> 
> also check out this AMAZING fanart for darkness will be rewritten, drawn by dontfeedthebabytigers on tumblr! https://dontfeedthebabytigers.tumblr.com/post/185512015343/ive-never-really-made-fanart-before-certainly
> 
> ITS BEAUTIFUL AND I CRIED


	7. what's even real anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i remember posting a chapter for darkness on canada day last year so i had to post one this year. 
> 
> this chapter has a lot of hydra flashbacks so tw for torture both mentally and physically. 
> 
> this isn’t edited so i might go back later to fix mistakes

_“Petey.”_

_Peter doesn’t know where he is. The room is familiar, it… smells familiar. He has seen this place before, but he doesn’t know where._

_“Petey.”_

_He looks up. Sitting at the desk in front of him is Richard Parker. His father._

_He knows where he is. He has seen this room in pictures, in video clips. It’s Richard Parker’s office. He doesn’t know how he got here. Richard Parker is dead._

_Is he? He’s sitting right in front of Peter. He is vivid, even looks older than he did in the photos Peter has seen. Is this his imagination? Does his subconscious remember being here, in this room? Is that why the smell is so familiar? Is that possible?_

_Is Peter dead? Is that why he’s here? If Peter is dead, why isn’t he with his Mama? Is he in hell? Is hell this room, stuck in a memory he doesn’t remember, his only company the man he cannot remember?_

_“Please, Peter.”_

_Peter finally looks at the man. Truly looks at him. He doesn’t know what to say. What does he call him? This isn’t Peter’s dad._  

_“I’m so sorry, Peter,” Richard says._

_“Wha…? Sorry… for what?” Peter gasps out. His throat hurts. His voice is raspy, as if he hasn’t spoken for days._

_“I never wanted for you to get hurt, please now that,” Richard says. “The last thing I ever wanted to do was to put my son in danger.”_  

_“You… The serum…,” Peter mumbles._

_“Was meant to help people,” Richard says. “It required human DNA, and the only person’s I could have used that wouldn’t have gotten me in trouble was my own. It was a secret.”_

_“A secret?”_

_“Nobody knew. Only the people I knew I could trust,” Richard says, pausing to think about what he had just said. “Or thought I could trust, I guess. They found out.”_

_“Who?” Peter asks._

_“HYDRA,” Richard says. Peter flinches back. “I didn’t know it was them, at the time. I didn’t know they were even still around. I received a warning. Give us the serum and nobody will get hurt. I thought it was a joke. A sick one, but still a joke.”_  

 _“Mama got hurt,” Peter says suddenly. He wonders if Richard knows. If he has been watching them._  

 _“You got hurt, Peter,” Richard says. “They killed me because they knew they couldn’t use me. They could use you and Mary.”_  

 _“I’m sorry I forgot about you,” Peter says._  

 _“Don’t be sorry about that, my boy,” Richard says. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to watch you grow up, to help you.”_  

_“It’s not your fault,” Peter says. “I think it is, sometimes, but it’s not. You were just trying to help people.”_

_“The only person I should have been trying to help, especially after I got the letter, was you. I failed you. I’m so sorry, baby.”_

_Peter wants to say something, but the room is fading away. The ground has disappeared, and Peter begins to fall, he’s falling, he’s falling and he is_ scared, _he doesn’t know where to go or what to do, and all he wants is to scream but something is covering his mouth, oh god, what is that?_

* * *

Pain. That’s all he feels. Everything else is muted in the background.

As if underwater, Peter hears the distant sounds of other people, several people, and sees the blurry lights flashing in his eyes, but all he can focus on is the pain.

Trying to focus, Peter thinks he can hear someone screaming. Are they in pain, too? Where is he?

Did he get taken again? Is this it? Has his worst fear finally come true? Will he soon be back in his cell?

A bright white light shoots in his eye, and the screaming gets louder, and Peter realizes that the screaming must be coming from him. He tries to stop, but he can’t he’s scared and it _hurts_ and he doesn’t know where he is, where his dad is, all he wants is his dad. 

He isn’t sure how much time passes, a few seconds or hours, but eventually everything fades once more, and he is met with the darkness.

* * *

_“This is all your fault, you know.”_

_Peter knows that voice. He knows that voice better than he knows any other one._  

_“Hey there, angel,” Bubba smiles. “Look at the mess you’ve gotten yourself into, pretending to be better than you are.”_

_Peter wants to say something. He wants to defend himself. Tell Bubba that he_ is _better than HYDRA made him, but he can’t. He can’t speak. He knows he would just be lying to himself, anyway._

_“You know none of this would have happened if you had just listened, right?” Bubba asks._

_Peter is confused. What would have happened? Listened to who? The confusion etched into his face makes the man begin to explain._

_“You never listened to us. You pretended to, you acted like a good little Spider, but in the end you were never good enough to be what we wanted,” Bubba said._

_This should make Peter happy. Glad that he never became what HYDRA wanted, that he always maintained a piece of what his Mama had wanted._

_He isn’t glad._  

 _He feels betrayal, he feels devastated. How could Bubba say that? The Spider always did exactly as he was told, he was_ good, _and yet they felt this way? What had he done wrong?_  

_“You know I love you, right?”_

_Peter nods. It’s better to just agree than to argue._  

 _“Then you know that it’s because I love you that I let them punish you, right?” Bubba asks. “We want to make you perfect. When you’re perfect, there’s nothing that you can’t do.”_  

_Peter doesn’t like the punishments. He never has. He never walks away from them having learned any lesson other than ways to avoid it happening again. Perhaps that is the only lesson he needed to learn. It’s hard to know what HYDRA wanted. Their needs changed by the hour, and he was never able to catch up._

_“None of this would have happened if you had stayed with me, Peter,” Bubba says._

_He hesitates. Bubba has never said his name before. Peter wasn’t aware Bubba knew his name. He was always The Spider. He uses the boy’s name now to mock him. To mock the life he has come to known since HYDRA. Peter is a weak name, for a weak boy. It does not bring fear to the mind as the title of Spider does._  

_“They,” Peter gasps out, his breath coming out quicker and quicker. “They took me away.”_

_“You liked it,” Bubba says. “You were glad to be out, don’t lie to me, boy.” He spits the title out like a curse, and Peter takes it as such. He always uses sweet nothings to address Peter, never harsh ones such as that._

_“You’ve never loved me,” Bubba says. “You think you do, but you’ve always resented me.” The man leans in, getting so close to the boy that Peter thinks he can feel his breath. “The truth is, Peter,” he whispers. “You’ve always revolted me. How could anyone ever love something as pathetic as you?”_

* * *

“No,” he whispers. “I don’…”

Everything is blurry. He tries to find Bubba, to make the man explain to him what he just said, how could that be true? For all The Spider did for him, how could he hate him?

“Peter?” 

He pauses. There’s someone there. He tries to look over, but he is so sluggish that his mind refuses to let his eyes move from their place gazing at the white ceiling.

“Pete, buddy, can you hear me?”

There is a hand holding his. He feels it if he concentrates very hard. It has been increasingly tightening it’s hold on his hand, but that’s fine. He likes the way it is holding him in the present. 

“B… Bubba?” he mumbles, so slowly and drawn out in his exhaustion. 

The body beside him stills so suddenly that even in his blurry peripheral vision does he take notice of it. The hand tightened even more. 

“No, baby,” The man says. “It’s Daddy. It’s Tony, your ‘Nee, remember?” 

‘Nee. He’s here. Peter found him.

Why is his dad at the HYDRA base? Has he taken him back? That doesn’t sound right? ‘Nee told him, didn’t he, that he would never take him back there?

It doesn’t matter. As long as the man is with him, Peter doesn’t matter where he is.

Knowing that his dad will keep him safe, he lets himself drift off again. 

* * *

_He has been here before, as well. He has heard of this place all through his early childhood, yes, the room where people go to die. Peter has always hated coming here. The constant wonder if today would be the day he died in the room. It was always other people, but there is no constant in HYDRA except fear and pain. He could be the one to die today._

_Sir is here as well._  

_Sir stands in front of him, looming over him, surrounding him in fear. The Spider isn’t sure why he was brought here. Has he served his purpose, and HYDRA must now discard him?_

_“Ah, my little Spider,” he says. “At long last, I’ve found you. I have never stopped trying to get you back to me.”_

_Something lifts in Peter’s chest. Something that he didn’t know was residing in him, something that longed to know what his true worth with HYDRA was. Knowing that he was worth enough to be searched for, makes an unwanted feeling of pride dwell inside of him._

_It was always best when Sir was happy._

_“The person you have become in your time away from us has made me most upset,” Sir says. Peter’s heart drops to his stomach in dread._

_Nothing good comes when Sir is upset._

_“Now that I have you back, is it even worth training you, as where we left off?” Sir asks. “You’ve been so long pretending to be a person, you’ve begun to believe you actually are one, Spider.”_

_Peter’s mouth opens, but he quickly shuts it before he can be in more trouble. One of Sir’s most important rules is that The Spider must never spoke unless directly spoken to._

_“You were always such a disappointment, Spider,” Sir says. “All my time spent on you, and you ended up_ weak.”

 _Suddenly, Sir begins to transform. He isn’t Sir anymore, his face is shifting and he is getting slightly shorter, though still tall enough to tower over Peter._  

 _Sir has become Tony Stark._  

 _His dad now stands in front of him, holding in expression Peter has never before seen on the man’s face. Especially not directed towards to boy himself._  

_“I shouldn’t have taken you in,” Dad says, sneering down at him. “I lost years of my life taking care of your miserable ass.”_

_Peter doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know why his dad is here, in the room where people go to die. He wonders if this is a trick, to test his loyalties. He wonders if his dad truly thinks these things of him. He is lost in his confusion when Tony leans over and whispers the only words the boy truly hates, the words he never thought he would hear come out of his dad’s mouth._

_“You’re nothing, Peter.”_

* * *

“-should have noticed something was going on… so different,” a voice says, cutting in and out as Peter desperately tries to cling to consciousness.

“…Couldn’t have known, Tony,” another voice says.

“I could,” the first voice, his dad, says back. “He’s never home… quiet, withdrawn… wetting the bed again.” 

“For how long?” 

“JARVIS won’t say,” Tony responds. “Don’t know what the hell the kid did to get JARVIS to keep secrets, but he refuses to answer.”

“Then how did you know?”

“He finally got out of bed and immediately wanted to go to Ben and May’s,” Tony says. “I was just happy he was out of his room, so I let him go. I got back after dropping him off and his room _stunk._ He just… left his room with piss in his bed. I should have known right then that there was a problem.”

“Do you think he purposely went looking for a fight?” 

“I don’t know what the _hell_ he was thinking!” Tony yells. 

The other man shushes Tony, trying to calm him down. “It’s okay… we’ll figure this out, Peter is safe,”-

“He clearly isn’t _okay,”_ Tony says, his voice dulled down to harsh whispers. “He was _stabbed.”_

Peter feels a hand running through his hair, calming him. He wonders if it is his dad’s hand. He hopes it is. 

Feeling the gentle hand soothing him, he once again accepts the sleep that wishes to overcome him. 

* * *

_He remembers that day more vividly than any other day in his time with HYDRA. He remembers being led down the hall, past the lab he usually goes, the lab where his cage is, into another. A bigger, scarier lab._

_He remembers being tied down. Straps everywhere, holding his small limbs to the metal table. He wasn’t wearing any clothes. He remembers how cold the metal felt against his skin._  

 _It wasn’t until they injected the serum inside of him did he realize he would have much preferred the cold._  

_Burning. That’s what he remembers the most._

_His entire body was on fire, he swore. They have lit his body on fire. That is the only explanation, when he feels his skin melting off of him._

_He stayed in the lab for a week, not once being allowed back in the cell where they held his Mama. He cried, begged for her, wishing she would come and put out the fire. She would soothe it, make him feel better._

_She could make it feel better, if only they had let him see her._

_They enjoyed his screams, he remembers. They used his screams as proof of the serum finally working. It was their first success._  

 _All he wanted was his Mama._  

* * *

A woman is talking.That’s what he notices when he first comes to. She is speaking in such a small, soft voice, that Peter immediately feels safe.

He wonders if it’s his Mama. Her voice was always able to comfort him, too.

He’s so tired. Why is so tired?

He can’t remember anything. Where is he? He tries to open his eyes, to find himself the answers he desires. He can’t. The exhaustion weighs him down as if Thor’s hammer was on his chest. 

The woman isn’t helping. Her voice is so soothing, like something you would hear from a nature documentary. He cannot pick out what she is saying, but he uses her voice as a guide, lulling him back into nothingness. 

* * *

_He isn’t sure what he did wrong, this time. He doesn’t remember breaking any of the rules, but that isn’t the only reason he gets punished._

_He isn’t tied down this time, but they expect him to stay still. They have their knives, again, and they have been cutting his arms. Deep, long gashes that make him inhale deep gasps every time._  

_He tries not to whine. He be a good, quiet boy, yet he cannot stop himself from uttering sounds from the pain._

_Sir doesn’t often oversee experiments this early on. Yet he is here. He stands behind The Spider, his rough grip on the boy’s head tightening as a warning every time he whimpers._  

 _Sir did not allow him to make any sounds. Perhaps this is why they cut._  

 _They have brought in The Spider’s friends. Seeing them makes the boy nervous. Are they going to hurt them?_  

_They had placed the spiders in his cell a short while ago. He enjoys their company. They were scared of him, he thinks, before they realized he was like them, too. He isn’t a human, but instead a spider like them._

_He doesn’t blame them for being scared. He is much bigger than them. He gets scared of people bigger than him. He is very afraid of Sir, who is much bigger than him._

_He enjoys watching the spiders climb the walls. He wishes he could spin webs, like them. He knows Sir wants him to be able to. He has tried, though it has never worked._

_“Now, Spider,” Sir says. “I see you have been enjoying the company of your… equals,” Sir says, gesturing to the box full of the spiders._

_The Spider remains silent. He knows speaking now would only make things worse._

_“If I am not mistaken, Spider, yesterday you expressed your hunger to Bubba. Is that right?” Sir asks._  

_Bubba asked him if he was hungry. It was an order. He had to answer him truthfully, he didn’t mean to complain. He wants to explain this to Sir, but Sir was not asking for an explanation. Only a confirmation._

_He nods._

_“Need I remind you that you do not have permission to eat,” Sir explains. “You are fed from the IV’s where we can monitor your progression.”_

_The Spider nods. He knows this._  

_“Spiders are very replaceable. They mean nothing to us,” Sir says._

_Sir takes a small device out of his pocket, clicking his thumb down to reveal fire coming out of it._

_The Spider’s breath halts to a stop. Is Sir going to burn him? Normally, the man does not do the experiments on him, preferring to allow the lab technicians to do so._

_Sir does not burn him. Instead, he drops the device on the box that holds the spiders. The boy lets out a sharp inhale. He watches the box burn, destroying the evidence of the only friends he has ever known._

_He knows, now. He is worthless. Spiders are worthless to HYDRA. He has to prove himself worthy of their protection. He must be better than he was, more loyal._

_One of the doctors cuts deep into his arm, leaving a trail of blood to mix with the rest._

_He doesn’t make another sound._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i hope that was ok but this is the lowest of the low there is a major turning point after this chapter finally lmao. 
> 
> please leave comments below


	8. have no fear, dad is here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi im back and i split all my coffee on the floor so that is a good example of how bad this chapter is
> 
> tw: this chapter has mentions of self harm, suicidal thoughts (briefly), and discusses the sexual assault of a child and how that child is coping in their teenage years.

Peter wakes to a shrill, repetitive beeping piercing through his mind. As he quickly regains consciousness, it gets louder, and quicker, bringing him to full awareness.

He groans slightly, aware of the dull ache that covers his whole body, as well as the uncomfortable heat that is covering him.

He sighs deeply, allowing himself a few more moments of dark oblivion before he opens his eyes and faces the world.

Once he manages to finally open them, a process that takes much more time and effort than he thought it would, he blearily blinks up at the white ceiling.

That’s not right. The ceiling he is used to waking up to is the dark one that comes with his nook. He isn’t used to waking up anywhere else. Panic begins to build inside of him, the unknown threat consuming him. Where is he?

A sudden movement on his left startles him. It sits up in a chair, grabbing his hand. “Pete?”

He blinks a few times, trying to get his vision back to normal, to stop making everything so blurry. Trying to figure out who is holding his hand.

“Who… who’s it?” He mumbles. He can barely get his voice to work.

“It’s Tony, baby,” the figure says.

He blinks again. Squeezes his eyes shut, trying to focus. “Wha?” 

The beeping is getting faster, which is only making him panic even more. Why won’t it shut up?His senses flare, and suddenly he can hear _everything,_ the car signalling outside, the body beside him shifting, the coffee machine downstairs dripping.

He starts suddenly when he feels a pressure on his head. It hesitates for a second, after seeing him jump, but then it gently places itself back.

“Sh, Petey, it’s alright,” the voice says again. “I’m here, okay? ‘Nee.”

“‘Nee,” he mumbles. “Daddy.”

He feels his dad let out a sigh of relief. “Yeah, baby boy. It’s Daddy.”

“Where m’I?” Peter says. His panic at waking up in an unknown location has only slightly been dimmed since seeing his dad.

“You’re in the medical wing at the tower, buddy,” Tony says. “You were stabbed, do you remember?”

Peter furrows his eyebrows and thinks back. He remembers being at Ben and May’s, getting upset with Ben, leaving… He remembers the drunk men, the knife. That explains that, then. But how did he get here? As if sensing his confusion and distress, Tony begins to explain.

“A woman took your phone and called the most recent contact in it. That happened to be me,” he says. 

“Oh,” Peter says, remembering the woman who had been with that man. The man who was hurting her. He wonders if she went back to him, without Peter there to help her.

“How long was I sleeping?” He asks his dad.

Tony takes a long look at him, still stroking his hands through his hair, and sighs.

“The stab wound was only half of your problem, buddy. You were physically and mentally exhausted. Your body hasn’t gotten a good sleep in what looks like weeks, and it desperately needed the rest.

“You’ve been asleep for over four days, Spiderman.”

Peter stares up at the man, eyes slowly widening. In his half awakened state, only half of him recognized that his dad had even called him by his other name, but the one that did was _mortified._

“W-what do you mean?” He splutters out. “I’m… I have nothing to do with that.”

“Shh, baby,” Tony whispers. “We’ll talk about it when you’re feeling a little better, hm? You go back to sleep for now.”

Peter releases a shaky breath. “You… you won’ leave?”

“Never,” Tony says. “I’ll be here forever.”

Peter doesn’t remember falling asleep, and he sure doesn’t remember what he dreamt about, but he must have, for the next minute he is staring at his dad’s face, and the next he is submerged in darkness, the silhouette of Tony sleeping in the chair beside him telling him that some time must have passed. 

With another state of confusion, Peter lays there pondering what happened, until once again everything clears up, including the conversation he had with his dad just before he fell asleep.

_You’ve been asleep for over four days, Spiderman._

The shrill beeping starts up once again, but this time Peter is lucid enough to realize that it is coming from the heart monitor attached to his finger. Desperately wanting it to stop, he rips it off, only to be met with the even worse sound of a flatline.

That sound jolts Tony out of his sleep, looking right to the monitor and his eyes going wide.

“Peter!” He says, hands flying out to the boy’s neck, right over his pulse point 

Peter flinches away from the sudden movement. 

“P-Peter?” Tony says, noticing his open and alert eyes for the first time since waking. 

“I… I took it off,” Peter says. “The sound hurt.”

Tony’s eyes are still wide in almost maddened concern. His eyes dart around Peter’s face, his body, to the finger which no longer holds the heart monitor.

“You can’t do that,” Tony says. “I nearly had a heart attack, _again,_ I can’t watch your heart stop another time, Peter, I just can’t.” 

“Another time?” Peter asks, wondering when the other had been.

Tony sighs. “You were in an awful state, buddy. If that girl had not called us, you would have bled out. We nearly didn’t make it in time.” 

“Oh,” Peter says. He wonders if it would have been such a bad thing.

His dad doesn’t respond to him, instead settles closer to Peter, hands trailing to Peter’s hair.

“M’sorry, ‘Nee,” Peter says. “M’sorry.” 

“Hey,” Tony whispers, kissing the top of Peter’s head. “It’s okay.”

Peter whimpers and settles down, quieting and allowing both himself and his dad to relish in the comfort of touch.

After what feels like only a few minutes, but could have been up to an hour, Tony breaks the silence.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Peter?” Tony looks down at him with large, tearful eyes.

“You wouldn’t have let me do it,” Peter says. 

“I need you to be safe, Peter,” Tony says. “That’s the first objective of my entire existence. I swore that I would _never_ allow you to become a part of my fight.”

“It’s not just your fight, ‘Nee,” Peter says. He pauses when he realizes that he has used that nickname more that night than he has in years. He isn’t sure when he outgrew it. It was such a big factor of his childhood, a comfort that he created when there was so much to be sceptical of. Though a simple speech impediment at the beginning, he quickly began using the name as a form of affection.

Peter remembers, at the very beginning, Tony reminded him of Bubba. His kindness, his willingness to be around the boy and _not_ experiment with his body. Though, when he thinks about it, a part of him always knew that Tony was better, and that made the boy very confused as a child. His joy with being around Peter seemed to stem from nothing. He wanted nothing in return besides Peter’s own happiness. It was within Tony’s love and acceptance of him that Peter even truly began to understand the true horror behind what had been done to him. He owes everything to Tony. 

“It’s not just your fight,” he repeats. “It’s been my fight ever since I was taken when I was two. I was supposed to be on the opposite side of your war, but now I’m here, and I know the horrors that HYDRA can do to someone.

“If I can do something to help stop them, then I have to join the fight, right? It’s only fair to the other children who might get hurt because of them.” 

“I promised myself all those years ago, when the media first found out about you, that you would _never_ have to get yourself in danger,” Tony says.

“But that shouldn’t be your choice, Dad!” Peter exclaims. “I have these powers and I want to use them for something good for a change! You don’t understand.”

Tony flinches slightly, a movement so minimum that you wouldn’t have been able to see it unless you were actively looking for it, as Peter had been. 

“Have I really been that bad of a dad? Been that hard on you?”

“No,” Peter is quick to shoot that down. “No, you’re great, Dad, It’s just…”

“Just?” 

“I’ve been… sad, recently. I guess.” 

Tony sighs softly and starts stroking his hair out of his face. “I noticed, baby. I didn’t know what the proper way to bring it up would be, so I just left it alone.” He takes his free hand and rubs it over his face. “Clearly that was the wrong approach.”

Peter shakes his head. “I’ve been thinking about them a lot,” he says. “HYDRA.”

“Yeah?” Tony asks. “In any particular way?” 

Peter shakes his head. “Just that… they made me into who I am, Dad.” When Tony goes to open his mouth to protest, Peter shakes his head, causing the words to die in the older man’s mouth. “They did. You taught me my values, and a whole lot of other things, but they made me into The Spider. They made me realize how strong I am, and how much I can overcome. I didn’t ask for it, but I _can_ use the thing they gave me in the way they would have wanted the least.”

“And that’s by stopping bank robberies and bar stabbings?” Tony asks.

“Yes,” Peter says. “By helping people who HYDRA doesn’t care about.”

Tony sighs. “All right.”

Peter does a double take. “What?” 

“All right. But we need to take some better precautions if you’re going to do this. First off, you need a better suit,” Tony explains. 

“W-what?” Peter asks. 

“You have a billionaire for a father and you think he’s going to let you run around in a pair of pyjamas?” 

“They’re,” Peter splutters. “They’re not _pyjamas.”_

“They might as well be,” Tony smirks at him. “We’re going to make you a better suit. You’re going to text me regular updates. You have a curfew. If I say come home, you _come home.”_

Peter nods. “That’s fair. Thank you, Dad, really, and I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner, but I’ll show you what I can do, I can,”- 

“Not so fast, underoos,” Tony says. “You were _stabbed._ You nearly bled to death. You’re grounded for two months.”

“I’m grounded because I was stabbed?” Peter says. “That hardly seems fair. 

“You’re grounded because you went behind my back, lied to me, and then happened to get stabbed in the process,” Tony explains. “Besides, you being grounded means I can keep tabs on you while you recover.” 

“It doesn’t take me two months to recover from _anything,”_ Peter says.

“Two months,” Tony says in an affirmative voice. “No negotiations, Peter.

“And I’m putting a tracker in your suit.”

Peter can barely let out a groan before his dad is squishing him with a hug. 

“Don’t scare me like that ever again,” Tony says. “ _Ever.”_

* * *

When Peter wakes up from a nap, Tony is right there where he was before, but this time he isn’t alone.

Peter sighs. “Hi, Grace.” 

“Peter,” she smiles slightly. “I’m glad you’re alive and responsive. That’s different from the last time I saw you.” Her tone shows no sign of sympathy. She’s upset with him. 

This isn’t the first time. For the amount of kindness and understanding she has for his healing, she has no time for some of the stupid acts he pulls. This apparently falls into her categorization of that same thing. 

“Are you feeling up for a session?” She asks.

“Not really,” he says. “But I want to tell you something.” 

“Okay,” she agrees. “We’ll make it as short as you’d like, then.”

He nods and takes a short glance to Tony. 

“Would you like your dad to leave the room?” She asks. 

Peter gives a sheepish look and nods. Tony, to his credit, doesn’t say much but instead ruffles his curls and leaves the room, mumbling about getting a good coffee that isn’t the crap Steve brings him. 

Grace sits down beside Peter’s bedside, in the same chair that Tony had just been residing in.

“So, Tony would never say this to you, but I feel like it’s something that has to do with what you want to tell me,” Grace says. “Due to the fact that you never wish for him to leave the sessions he happens to be at unless the conversation goes this way.

“You asked for Bubba once when you woke up. Do you remember that?” 

Peter flinches. Shakes his head quickly.

“Have you been thinking about him recently?” She asks.

Peter nods. “I… I’ve been… having dreams about him. Almost every night. I can’t stop them.” 

Grace nods. “Are these dreams in a sexual manner?”

“Yeah,” Peter says. “But I’ve been having dreams about him for as long as I can remember. They never used to make me… wake up like that.”

“You’re having orgasms in your sleep, because of these dreams,” Grace clarifies. 

Peter nods, feeling mortified though staying silent. 

It’s out. She knows now. She knows that he is nothing but a good for nothing piece of shit who fantasizes about his rapist. Who’s mind creates alternate situations in which Bubba hurt him even more, in more fucked up ways, and he gets off to them.

“That’s perfectly normal, Peter,” Grace says.

Peter shakes his head really fast. “No, no it’s not, you don’t understand.”

“I don’t,” Grace says. “I can never truly understand what it is that you went through, but I make it my job to try to empathize with you, you know that. I know you, Peter. You aren’t a bad person.”

“But…,” Peter trails off.

“You’re fourteen, Peter. Your hormones are changing faster than you can imagine, and your body is trying to keep up with that.”

“Normal fourteen year olds don’t dream about middle aged guys raping them,” Peter argues. 

“No, most do not,” Grace agrees. “But your mind is focusing on the one sexual experience you have and you body reacts in turn. This has nothing to do with sexual attraction. The body doesn’t always listen to the mind, especially not the sexual organs.”

“I… It’s not memories, though. I dream about him… in my room, here at the Tower.” Peter says weakly. 

“Once I dreamt that I was sleeping with my best friend’s husband,” Grace says. “I hold no attraction to him at all, nor am interested in doing anything with him. He talks about politics too much. 

“But that didn’t stop me from dreaming it,” she continues. “I woke up convinced I had cheated my best friend. Does that make me a bad person?”

“No,” Peter says. “You didn’t mean to dream about it.”

“Neither did you,” Grace says. “The subconscious mind can create very strange things, concepts we would never think of while awake. Your subconscious mind remembers Bubba, what he did to you.

“You have created this shield in your mind to block him from interfering with your daily life. When you’re asleep, the shield falls and suddenly he’s back, hurting you all over again. You body is simply reacting in a physical manner.” 

Peter, with tears gathered in his eyes, whimpers out, “so… so I’m not a bad person?”

“Not at all,” Grace says. “By not telling anybody about this, you’ve allowed yourself to become convinced that you’re this person that you’re not. Tell me, if Bubba were here right now, would you greet him with open arms?”

Peter flinches. “N-no! I wouldn’t know what to do.”

Grace hums. “Think about the feelings you would feel if he were to walk in the room right now.” 

“I can’t,” Peter says. “He can’t. He’s dead.” 

“You never got to see his body. You didn’t know he was dead until years later. You never got closure,” Grace says. 

“I don’t want to see him,” Peter says.

“Okay,” Grace replies. “That is completely fine, Peter. However, something needs to be done about your night situation. Tony told me you had wet the bed again, and intel from JARVIS shows it’s been happening for a while.”

“I… I get scared, and I wake up like that. I don’t know why,” Peter explains. “I didn’t want Dad to know because he would look at me differently.”

“All he wants to do is help you, Peter,” Grace says.

“I know,” Peter replies. “But I can’t help but feel ashamed when it happens. I’m fourteen, not six again.”

“Many people wet the bed after childhood, Peter. Some never stop. The rates are especially high in abuse survivors. There is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“It still makes me feel awful,” Peter says.

“I know,” Grace says. “But there are things that can be done to try and prevent this relapse from getting worse.”

“Like what?” Peter asks skeptically. 

“You need to figure out a way you can think about him and cope with what he did to you while you are awake, so that the dreams won’t continue to plague you.”

“That… that will work?” Peter asks.

“Would it hurt if you tried?”

No. He supposes it wouldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if there are grammar/spelling errors, i have a huge headache and i cant focus but i was just typing and typing. will edit and re-add eventually. 
> 
> as always, please leave comments. if i get detailed comments i get more motivation to write. 
> 
> thanks to all! stay healthy and happy and to those of you going back to school as I am, good luck and study!


	9. cap is better than black widow, says who??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it has been so awfully long since i posted, i am so sorry. i have lost all inspiration. this chapter is short and i'm so, so sorry. thank you for all who have remained invested.

It’s not that Peter expected to be completely healed after one talk with Grace. He knows better than that, that it will take so much more work to even be a slight bit recovered from his relapse.

Though he does wish that it _did_ work like that.

He was released from medical today. He’s all healed up, at least physically, now. He could have left medical days ago, but his dad forced him to stay until his wound was completely healed, knowing the boy would start running around and agitating it before it was gone. 

After getting released, Tony immediately set a bunch of rules for the boy, including that Peter is not allowed to leave the Tower except for school, and when that happens he needs a babysitter to watch him walk in the building, as well as out.

As much as Peter understands his dad’s fear, he finds it so difficult to be okay with the sudden influx of hovering. It’s the last thing he wanted.

The second he got home and in his bedroom, he opened his phone. He had waited quite some time to check the messages in his shame. After his talk with Grace, he learned that he had been hurting Ned by making him keep this secret and stall for him. That Ned was worried about Peter’s wellbeing, and the boy had just been shrugging him off.

He decides it would be better to just call his friend. Ned picks up within seconds, as if he were waiting with by the phone. He probably was, now that Peter thinks about it.

“Peter!” 

“Hey, Ned,” Peter says. “Look, dude,”- 

“I’m so sorry, Peter!”

“…What?” Peter says. “What are _you_ sorry for?”

“I told you dad that you are Spider-Man!”

“Wait… what?” Peter asks. “What do you mean you told him?”

“He told me that you got hurt! That you were _stabbed!”_ I couldn’t let you keep going like that, Peter!”

Peter is confused. He thought that the woman he had been trying to help called Tony. That he found Peter, with the suit on, and figured it out. How could Ned have…

“…and I understand if you don’t want to be my friend anymore, Peter, but I made a decision. It nearly killed me, but if I hadn’t told, _you_ could have been killed! I decided that my friendship with you isn’t as important as your life, Peter, because I know you put other people before yourself all the time, so I put you in front of me. So that you won’t die!”

“Ned.”

“And I think you should consider… yes?” Ned says.

“Thank you,” Peter says.

“Huh?”

“You’re right,” Peter says. “I was running myself to an early grave, the way I was going. I was out of my mind, with things you wouldn’t understand.”

“You can tell me about those things, Peter,” Ned says. “You know I love you.”

“I can’t, Ned. You know I can’t.

“However, you’re the best friend I could ask for. You did what you think was best for me, not you. Thank you.”

“Oh,” Ned says. “So we can still be friends?”

“Of course,” Peter laughs. “I don’t have any other friends.”

“Well, MJ is kind of our friend…,” Ned trails off.

“MJ won’t talk about the newest Star Wars theories with me.”

“That’s true,” Ned agrees. “If I ever catch you talking about that with anyone else I will feel betrayed.” 

“I love you, man,” Peter says.

“I love you, too,” Ned says. “You’re the weirdest guy I’ve ever met, though.”

Peter laughs. “Yeah, I know.”

“Do you want to come over later? I managed to get a copy of the full version of the Star Wars Christmas special.”

“I can’t,” Peter sighs. “My dad has me grounded indefinitely for what happened.” 

“Oh, no. I’m sorry, dude.”

“That’s okay, man. I deserve it,” Peter says. “Besides, you know my dad. It’ll last a week, then he’ll budge and let you come here.”

“Sounds good, man. Listen, I know you’ve been out for like… a week, but have you heard about the leak from the new movie?”

“What?” Peter exclaims.

“Yes! You’ll never guess who they say Rey will end up with!”

* * *

His dad has not mentioned the Spider-Man thing since he got home. They spend some time with each other, nothing significant, really. But every time, there is a giant elephant in the room and neither of them are willing to acknowledge it. 

“Peter, Sir is requesting your presence in the lab,” JARVIS says. 

“Well, uh,” Peter says. “Aren’t I banned from the lab, indefinitely?”

“Technically, yes. Though Sir specifically asked for you, and it was him that set the ban.”

Peter huffs. “He’s probably just going to burn my lab space to the ground.” 

Despite this, Peter trudges his way to the lab, where Tony is standing in the middle of the room, working on something that Peter is unable to see.

“Hello, my dear underoos.”

Peter frowns. “What’s an underoos?”

Tony laughs. “Well, I’m sure going to find you a pair to wear, now.”

“Why are you making fun of me?”

“I’m not,” Tony sighs. “I’m not, baby. I’m teasing you. There’s a difference.”

“Is not!”

“Is too,” Tony says, sticking his tongue out.

“Is that all you wanted me from?” Peter says.

“No,” Tony says. “Definitely not, I would never hurt my dear boy’s feelings like that.”

Peter doesn’t answer. Instead, he frowns and looks up at the schematics that his dad has littering throughout the room.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to notice,” Tony says.

“Is this Spider-Man related?” Peter asks hesitantly.

“It is,” Tony says. “For one, I’ve been trying to recreate your webbing, and I can’t. JARVIS swears you manufactured it on your own, but he won’t tell me _how._ ”

“That would be cheating, dad,” Peter smirks. “If you can’t figure it out on your own I guess I’m just smarter than you.” 

“Oh, is that how you’re going to play it?”

Peter shrugs. “A fourteen year old has defeated you, old man.”

“Well, I guess you don’t want this, if you are too smart,” Tony says, clicking a button and opening a door that leads to a high tech suit, obviously designed with inspiration from Peter’s old suit.

“What… is that?”

“Your prom dress. Do you like it?” Tony asks.

“I thought… I thought I was getting an Iron Man suit,” Peter says.

“What? Why on Earth would I let you steal my suits?”

“You said I needed one!” Peter yells.

“No,” Tony shakes his head. “I said you needed a new suit. A bulletproof one, one that will keep you safe. I want you to have Spider-Man, Peter. Not be Iron Man junior.” 

Peter nods, tears filling his eyes. “Thank you, dad.”

Tony smiles. “I love you, kiddo.” 

Peter walks past the suit to his dad, wrapping his arms around him. “I love you, too.”

They stand there for quite some time, simply holding each other. It’s been awhile since Peter has truly been able to allow himself this comfort. He decided then that it doesn’t matter how much shame he feels about himself, Tony will never think badly of him. He knows that his dad doesn’t want him to be Spider-Man, doesn’t want it so bad that it is killing him inside to allow Peter to do this. Because in the long run, it will help Peter.

So, if Tony is willing to bite his tongue and allow him what he wants, Peter is willing to include Tony in the things that he wants to.

“I’ve been having nightmares again,” Peter says. “Badly.”

Tony nods. “I know. Worse than they’ve been for awhile?”

Peter confirms it. “I’m wetting the bed again.”

“Often?” His dad asks. “I noticed it the day you got hurt, but…,”

“A lot, yeah,” Peter says.

“Have you been washing your sheets on your own?”

Peter nods. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You could have come to me, baby.”

“I didn’t think I could,” Peter admits. “Look, Dad. I’m fourteen. I’m way too old to be wetting the bed, and I just thought that you would be…,”

“Be what, buddy?” Tony asks. He brushes some hair out of Peter’s face.

“Be grossed out, or something,” Peter says. “I don’t know.”

“When have I ever been grossed out with you?” Tony says. “Besides, we’ve been over this. I missed your diaper phase. I’m okay cleaning some wet sheets.”

Peter sniffs but stays quiet.

“We can work through this today, bambino,” Tony says. “If you’ll let me help you.”

Peter nods. “I don’t want you to think I’m a baby.”

“Peter,” Tony says. He grabs Peter’s chin and tilts it so that the boy is looking directly at him. “I have never thought you were a baby. When I first found you, I knew that you were the bravest person I have ever met.

“You had seen things that no child or baby could ever get through,” Tony continues. “You missed being a child because of _them,_ so if once and awhile you slip and do something that society wants you to believe you are too old for, well, fuck them.”

Peter startles. “ _Dad.”_

 _“_ What?” Tony asks. “You know I swear, and I know you swear when you think I’m not paying attention.”

Peter smiles through his tears. “Does that mean I can start saying whatever I want?”

“Hell no,” Tony says. “Three consecutive swears and you’re grounded, you know the rules.”

The two of them stand there for quite some time, simply holding each other. After a while, long after Peter has begun to feel himself really start to relax, Tony lets him go. “So, what do you think of the suit?”

“Its,” Peter says, stumbling over his words. “It’s _incredible,_ really.”

“You think so?” Tony says. “I’ll go over the details of it with you when I decided that you are no longer grounded.” 

“What?” Peter exclaims. “That’s really not fair, Dad.”

“What’s not fair about it?” Tony asks. “That’s why it’s called ‘being grounded’, kiddo.”

“Why would you let me see it just to take it away from me?” Peter yells.

“I’m not taking it away from you,” Tony says. “I’m going to let it sit right here, where you will be able to see it, but not touch it.”

“That’s torture,” Peter jokes, smiling just to show his dad that he doesn’t mean it.

He jokes around with his dad like this, but he knows that it is not torture. He knows what real torture feels like, how someone can inflict meaningful harm upon you. He knows that the suit being on display like that is simply his dad teasing him. He doesn’t want to hurt Peter.

“You’re going to start training with Nat, too. Sometimes Cap.”

Peter is confused. “What do you mean?”

“You need proper training,” Tony says. “Why not get it from the best in the business?”

Peter laughs. “Why only ‘sometimes Cap’”?” He asks. 

“Steve is a busy guy,” Tony says, obviously joking. “Think of him as like fighting the boss level in one of those games Ned brings over.”

“Are you saying that Cap is a better fighter than Nat?” Peter asks, making sure that he paints a serious look on his face.

Tony’s eyes widen. “No,” he quickly defends.

“I’m telling,” Peter jokes.

“Please,” his dad begs. “No.”

“I have to let her know you think she’s the worst fighter on the team.”

“ _Hey,”_ Tony says. “I _never_ said that. I simply said,”-

“Are you saying you think someone else is worse?” Peter says. “Who?” 

“Well, without that bow,”-

“You think Clint is the worst on the team!” Peter yells. “Confirmed! Tony Stark hates Hawkeye confirmed!”

“Listen here, you little shit,” Tony says, pointing a finger up at Peter.

“This just in on the Daily Bugle: Tony Stark announces Hawkeye can’t fight for shit!” Peter exclaims as he quickly walks to the door of the lab.

“Hey, get over here, where are you going?”

“I’m going to find Clint and tell him you think he sucks!”

“ _Don’t worry, Peter,”_ JARVIS suddenly announces. “ _I have already informed both Agents Barton and Romanoff and they are currently sharping their weapons.”_

Peter smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, so sorry for not updating quicker. this fic has me lost and i don't think i will find more inspiration. (leave comments and suggestions please. a headcanon a day keeps me one day further from losing my shit) 
> 
> love to all of you.


End file.
